I woke up this morning with a sore throat and feeling rather bleary-eyed. I had a list of things-to-do, a few places to go and some things I wanted to accomplish besides. When I went into my closet looking for something to wear, the options seemed especially lackluster: faded jeans, some shapeless brown corduroys, a passel of t-shirts, a sweatshirt? My daily uniform. Boring. I decided that my commonplace routine, though a bit dull, merited some lively clothing nevertheless, so I put on some tights, a skirt and some heels, and accessorized with a red bracelet and my shell of confidence. Off I went to teach a piano lesson, cash some checks and do some shopping. When you look good, you feel good. But is that the way it really works? Or do you have to feel good to decide to look good? I will tell you this: I felt better about my appearance than if the faded jeans and t-shirt would have lent themselves to my aura. There was a kick in my step that my sore throat and bleary eyes might not have produced if it weren't for a little mixing-it-up with the wardrobe.
I wore my church clothes, and I didn't even go to church. It made me think about my friend Leslie, and her amazing domestic art series.
Who says you need sneakers to mop the floor?
If your mood says heels, go for it.