My husband once asked me, “Who do you dress for, PJ?”

The question startled me. Not because it came from a man, let alone my happily-married one who happens to be my longtime beau, but because I’d never considered it.

On reflection, I knew I dressed for fun and fashion – and most definitely comfort. No pointy-toed stilettos for me!

Upon further reflection, I spent my career years dressed to bridge the gap between the worried parents who brought their toddlers, children who came intent to tantrum and/or to play but not be challenged with the tremendous effort required to overcome their speech-language disorder. It was a constant and classic tussle between who’d control the therapy session.

Yet, I also realized that I needed to look fully-schooled and accomplished – with all of the necessary degrees, certificate, and licenses – so the parents would toss the mantle of fear and trust me and the speech-language therapy process. They needed to abandon stances and defenses. I wouldn’t judge or advise. I’d guide them to hope.

Yet I didn’t dare appear stodgy to the child. I needed to evoke trust in him/her, too. I needed to be playful while in full control. I needed to be THE authority in the therapy room.

That was the past. Let’s return to present conundrums of dress.

We’ve all endured over a year of requested, then mandated, then relaxed, and then mandated again home-stay.

My closet had down-sized substantially. In part, because my body upsized and in part because I have no use for most of my former clothes. Goodwill’s gain became my aim. I’ve even begun to donate hangers.

As I review the remnants of purposeful clothing I own, I’m pleased. I’ve reduced the clutter and am content. I’ve purchased a few new pieces to enhance my mood and add a spark of joy. Behold, in the picture below, my post-COVID purse. No longer do I require a personal hand sanitizer to insure that all public forays are safe. Plus, the purse is peppered with tiny hearts winging their way to freedom

Behold the book I can carry with me constantly, tucked inside the purse, ready for public sales (wink).

So who do you dress for, Blog Reader? Do you dress for men? Dress for women? Dress to impress? Dress for the weather? Dress for comfort?