The (Old) Lady Needs Advice


(In "better" days)

Before I begin today's post, if you haven't read it already, take a look at: which talked about my Wednesday.  It wasn't a great day and ended up even worse as the bus I take home didn't show so I caught the next express (30 minutes later) which meant sitting in Penn Station for a good 40+ minutes and then getting on a more crowded bus than usual (because the 4:30 people were now joining the 5:00 people) with traffic being heavier.  It was not a fun day.

However, I'm not here to whine; or at least whine much.  But I would like some advice regarding this weekly commute.  

For the majority of my working life, I've gone to an office.  I've jumped in my car, driven to the location, parked (for free) and gone in to a building to do my thing.  At the end of the day I drove home.  There was a short period of time (in the last) century where, like now, I commuted to Newark.  Back then it was almost every day and like today, in order to save money, I would take a bus.  However, way back in the 20th century, there was an express bus that was only about a block and a half away from my house.  So it was a quick walk.  Also back in the day, I didn't have to carry a laptop back and forth.  (Laptops are great and portable, but it does mean carrying them from point A to point B.)  Today my commute is a little different.  The express bus of the 20th century is no more, so I take a different one.  One that requires a walk of approximately 3/4 of a mile to get to the stop in the morning (going downhill in the dark) and the same walk uphill in the evening (when the sun has gone down.)  It also requires a walk up two staircases and about two blocks (all down inside) from Penn Station to my office.  What does all of this mean?  It means that sensible shoes are a must.  It also means that I face the elements for a good thirty minutes prior to getting on the bus.  (As well as getting off, but that doesn't matter as much.)

So here's the deal; when I arrive at the office and see myself in the ladies' room mirror, I look awful.  My hair is always a mess (and a brush doesn't seem to help much).  I'm disheveled.  I'm unkempt.  I just don't look good.  I WANT to look good!

What I want to look like is Anne Hathaway in the montage of "The Devil Wears Prada."  I know this will never happen, but it's what I want.  What I'd like is to at least look put together as I arrive at the office or maybe a few minutes after I get there (after a run to the ladies room).   My office is business casual.  I'd like to look "put together" only I can't seem to pull it off.  And since I'm lugging a backpack for approximately a mile, bringing a lot of "stuff" to use at the office (in order to make myself presentable) isn't really an option.  

This shouldn't matter to me that much because there really aren't that many people on my floor.  Who cares what I look like? Well, I am vain because I care.  Also because yesterday someone from the third floor who I work with, came up to meet me (we had never met before) and brought me down to meet some other people.  There I was with my coffee-stained blouse, static cling hair and flats.  I felt frumpy and old.  I don't want to look frumpy and old.  I want to look put together and young.  In lieu of that how about an older woman with some sense of classic style.

So how do I do this?  I do I get put together when I'm trudging downhill in the dark in the morning?  (And it’s going to be dark…turns out that early morning call that I rushed into the office for is going to be a weekly thing…which ALWAYS falls on the day that I HAVE to be in the office.) There's got to be someone out there who has some sort of sense of style.  I need your help.  I need your help without breaking the budget (I have plenty of clothes that should work) or my back (since I have to carry everything).  Share your thoughts.  And please do it kindly...I've got enough self-esteem issues without anyone else's help.

Help an old lady out...Turn me from frump to fantastic.  (Or at least fine?)



Popular posts from this blog

Not Guilty

Please Don't Ask Me...