I was once an attendee at an all-hands, in person regional meeting for work. The President of our division flew in from parts unknown to address all of us and calm our fears after a huge internal scandal had been leaked to the press. His words were not inspirational in the least, but I sat with my hands in my lap and my legs crossed, attempting to hang onto his every empty word. He droned on and many of us were distracted.
In fact, a colleague of mine with wandering eyes took special notice of my shoes and commented through silently raised brows and a disapproving point that my footwear of choice didn’t meet the corporate standards, especially considering that I was in the company of the talking head at the mic. I laughed. Since when was an ill-fitting suit for a guy deemed appropriate (The Mothership could have have written a whole memo about his half-untucked shirt and scuffed shoes) but fun sandals that showed my nicely polished toes (gasp!) were unacceptable? I scratched my face with my middle finger and smiled big to show her what I thought of her judgmental glare. Mind your beeswax, Betsy in Business Banking! I can live without your catty comments.
I just so happened to wear those exact same shoes to a job interview with the Chairman of the Board of another financial institution. Not only did he notice them, but he commented on how fabulous they were. (I liked him already!) I explained that I was not a traditional “suit” and thought it best that he meet me and know me as I am, not dressed up in some uncomfortable plaid poly-blend getup with an old-fashioned blouse (it even sounds itchy, doesn’t it?) and hideously sensible shoes. So not me. Yuck.
For a family Bat Mitzvah a few years ago I bought my son Matthew an amazing Theory suit that fit him perfectly. The problem was finding shoes to fit his rather large paddles. He was at that in between age where his feet were larger than his frame and the shoes that did fit him were way too manly and way too ugly. So instead of trying to find kid-like dress shoes, I decided to endorse the look of “black tie sneakers” since they had fancy patent leather trim. They were his favorite kicks at the time anyway, so he was thrilled to rock those Jordan 11s to a formal nighttime event.
When my Mom sees multiple people wearing the same outfit– like a bunch of women at lunch all wearing the same tacky thing, or folks at lavish affairs that are noticeably underdressed, her comment is always, “I guess they didn’t get the memo,” which ok, is pretty funny! But I think we should all wear what makes us happy. So sandals for me and Jordans for Matty and Mom might want to rethink the memos!
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