There are those working days when you plain and simply have to gear up to fight. When what you have to accomplish is going to require your last iota of capability, cognitive, emotional, physical. In the corporate world those days call for navy blue. Every single woman going into law or finance or industry ought to make her first purchase and most frequent purchase over time a navy suit. Or suit equivalent. The particulars can change decade by decade. I celebrated my 30th birthday by buying my first non-suit for work. A navy blue dress that buttoned down the front, big shoulders, wide belt. It was 1986, remember? Throughout my 40’s I had a Vestimenta crepe wool navy blue suit. Hung perfectly. Wore it with flat black Ferragamo loafers. Nowadays I wear my Giorgio Armani navy tweed jacket with unmatching wide legged navy linen pants. Manolo Blahnik ballet flats. Heels cause me to wiggle, and wiggling causes me to falter.
Understand that I am not a big shopper. My closet is small. I only buy what I have to. I don’t have oodles and oodles of designer labels festooning my hangers. I have figured out the High WASP way of doing nothing wrong with my work wardrobe. No one will ever talk about my clothes behind my back. But some days I need to drop the gloves. I prepare myself for metaphorical blood on the ice. I get my tailored blue and white striped Brooks Brothers shirt, my Rolex Cellini, my bag. All the top level accessories. I wear not one thing that causes me to use up capability on doubt, no wrinkled shirt, no sub-optimal earrings, no scuffed shoes. I put on my navy blue jacket and pants. I prepare to prevail. Against all odds, sometimes.
Wow, this really gets my testosterone going. Line up the accessories like hand grenades.
Now I might wear just a little bit of blue mascara to remind myself that I used to frequent CBGB’s back in the ’80s. To remind myself that I find the whiteness of rice quite overwhelming. But that’s a small private sign. And the mascara is still navy blue.