my uniform

In 1994 I gave my notice. I was a Gillette Brand Manager, and had just taken a job for a similar position at Lever Brothers in New York City. I was excited about the move. 

Someone in Gillette's creative department surprised me with an illustration. In it, she had me wearing her imagined NYC uniform. A fur coat (mine was a light-colored raccoon coat I had purchased at Filene's Basement). Heels. Sheer hose, regardless of weather. And never too far from Bloomingdales. 

Times have changed. Now of course, my retailer of choice is Saks. My raccoon coat has long since disappeared from my wardrobe. And I haven't worn sheer hose (or heels to casually walk the streets) in a million years. 

Now, it's black tights (or no hose at all if the weather permits). A Moncler coat (if it's winter). And, according to my colleague Bobby, Jimmy Choo short biker boots ("that's an UES white woman boot," he tells me).  I own a pair — not because they're stylish, but because the rubber treaded soles make them remarkably comfortable for a long day of walking on hardwood floors



When I go to work, my uniform there is a black skirt, with either a white or black top. That, despite a relaxed dress coat where "personal style" is encouraged and applauded.

And when my mom visits, she generally comes wearing her uniform. Black leggings, a longish black top with a white long-sleeved tee underneath. She fits right in.

I have many different versions of my one uniform.  And while the overall look might be the same, I know the difference. 

I think it's funny when people come in to shop and say, "I don't want black. I have so much of it already."

80% of my closet is black, and I never get sick of it. Black is slimming, easy to wear, pairs well with almost everything, and conveys sophisticated chic. Plus, it never ever goes out of style.

Unlike oversized raccoon coats.