Twenty minutes after I don the day’s outfit, carefully selected to communicate just the right message, I experience one of those frequent self-awareness epiphanies, AKA: over-thinking.
The Context:
I’m heading to a Chef’s Panel for food entrepreneurs who want to understand the unique needs of starting a food pod in an upcoming trendy food hall at the newly renovated St. Louis Foundry. I’m attending because I love creating satisfying food experiences, especially for an appreciative “audience.” Offspring and relatives who are palate-challenged don’t qualify. I have dreamt of monetizing my love for the culinary arts for more than a decade, but I don’t really know what it takes to get started and to create a sustainable food business, so I’m hoping to absorb enough understanding to either strike that longtime dream from my imagination, or to empower me to take the plunge. The food hall model seems like it might require a smaller upfront investment (one I can afford) and a much smaller footprint to maintain, both of which appeal to me.
The Message:
The form-fitting, ankle jeans are intended to communicate that I don’t take myself too seriously, because entrepreneurs don’t do that, you know. They don’t need the glamour of a suit to impress you because...IDEAS.
The nude-colored suede heels say I’m trendy enough to create something of-the-moment, but the lines are classic enough to quell any suspicion that I’m a fly-by-night whose ability to remain both relevant and focused will be quickly depleted.
The white v-neck bow tie blouse, coupled with the carefully pressed linen jacket, emit a serious-business-woman vibe. I’m no rookie. Don’t mess with me. I’m not here for the free appetizers and booze. I know what I want.
The Epiphany:
It’s summertime in The Lou, so of course it’s 95 degrees with 72% humidity. Why in the world do I feel compelled to wear this jacket? Could I communicate the same message without the jacket? The simple answer is already known to me but the implications of the answer are psychologically complex. Without the jacket I feel exposed and more vulnerable to criticism. Are my intentions less serious and my ideas more flimsy without the jacket? No. But the jacket hides my insecurities about the imperfections of my aging body, which mirror my insecurities about the validity of my ideas and whether, at 52, I have the stamina to infuse life into those ideas. The jacket is merely a superficial mask. With triumphal flare, I remove the jacket and cast it onto the bed.
I am enough. My ideas are solid. These bodily imperfections are hard won revelations of a long journey. I am confident. I am secure. I can do this. I. AM. WOMAN.
The End:
Thirty minutes later, I confidently head out the door on my big adventure dressed in jeans, heels, blouse and...my linen jacket.
