As someone who primarily works from home, I don’t always dress for success. If we’re being really truthful, I sometimes don’t even dress. As a matter of fact, this blog is being drafted in the glory that is full late afternoon commando. Deal with it. My back yard neighbours with the new fence have learned to.
More often than not, I dress only to the critical point where I could answer the door without my arms crossed. It’s not giving up, it’s giving priority. My brain is lit up in the morning, not wasting that energy on accessorizing. Will never make it to a place where I could throw open the door braless although I wish I had that kind of hippy confidence. I’ve been known to wear one to bed when we have house guests in case I meet them in the hallway at night.
I’ve taken a bit of time away from doing stand up. It got yucky and toxic and for the wrong reasons so I stepped out before I lost my love for it. Needed to prove two things. One, that I could write more than what fits on a bar napkin and two, that sober suited up people in the daytime would be interested in what I have to say. Success! Out of the determined stubbornness of proving something came a new and complimentary love. The excruciating restraint and absolute freedom that comes from writing without having to be all things to all people. A focussed piece that speaks to the conversation thats already going on in someones head. It’s strategic and it’s exciting. I’m in for a pound.
The twist in this story is that I have a stand up gig in a couple of days. Historically, September is a nail biter of a month because club work dries up in the summer and you feel rusty. You can still do it but it’s like writing with a dull pencil. Not phoning it in but rather trying to remember how to make the call. Septembers in the days where I had all my eggs in the stand up basket creatively used to fill me with dread. Out of unmitigated insecurity I would obsess over picking a show outfit that would say confident yet relaxed, full of hilarity yet with a touch of upscale artist. Seriously!
– A graphic t-shirt with a fender guitar is too Bon Jovi cougar bar but a graphic t-shirt with a bird on it casually says I love nature without being too tree hugger.
– Jeans riddled with holes & nice boots okay. Brand new Jeans without holes & scuffed boots okay. New jeans & nice boots; Who do you think you are overkiller?
– Baggy low jeans with white button down shirt gives a cool boyfriend vibe. Dark fitted pants with white button down shirt gives a waiter vibe.
– Authentic concert tees sometimes work but a band that is being reproduced ironically by Top Shop sends a confusing message about how you spend your time.
My closet is very schizophrenic right now. Power suits next to destroyed jeans, lady blazers next to altered mens denim jackets, banged up motorcycle boots next to sensible pumps. Who am I?
I’m finally a writer, confident in my abilities to deliver a show without an agenda or misguided pressure to be something i’m not. I think it’s called a grown up.
I’m just a girl, standing in front of a set list, asking it to work.