My new clothes that I ordered online have arrived and I now own the cutest navy blazer ever. Ever! And it fits like a dream. OK, it is from that one British designer that I like and as I have admitted before, those Brits do know their blazers. I now own four from this particular designer and every time I wear one someone compliments me on my outfit and the new navy one is the best of them all. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, the skirt I bought doesn't fit. I ordered it a size smaller than I used to be and it is too big. I should have realized because my skinny pants are all now my fat pants because they are all too big, so I am going to exchange the skirt because it is way too cute to not own and it will look amazing with my blazer, if it fits. Being too large, it just makes me look frumpy and I am not a frump.
Speaking of not being a frump, I have mentioned before that it is one of my goals to be the most fashionable person in the Department without being a fashionista because I can't afford big name designers on my federal government salary. Thank goodness the foreign service doesn't have uniforms anymore because I would so not look good in this, although it might be fun to carry a sword at work.
But just because the federal government doesn't require uniforms for everyone doesn't mean there aren't those who want to impose them on you--the black pantsuit brigade, for example. I think some of these women are trying to emulate Secretary Clinton, but I will have you know that I saw her giving speeches twice and once she was wearing a jacket that was robin's egg blue and once it was white boucle. Hmmph. But one federal entity which shall remain nameless but was not the State Department published guidelines for a dress code that was ridiculous in the extreme. Apparently, women should all wear heels, make-up is a must, jackets are required, and you shouldn't have red hair. (Wish I were joking about that.) And if you are blonde, no bright colors. Also hose with open-toed shoes is a no-no. So as I was reading this dress code wearing my turquoise sweater and peep-toe heels with black nylons and of course red hair, I cracked up. Because obviously this dress code was written in 1946 by an idiotic old man who thought "Vogue" was a Russian/communist word and who doesn't know how to spell "faux pas." (He spelled it "fopas".) Break the rules at the peril of your career. I wish I had a copy of the dress code to post here, but I don't and also, I can't say which federal entity published it. But take my word for it. It was hilarious. I sent it to Artemis who told me at that very moment she was wearing cowboy boots, so both of us were breaking multiple rules and have no hope of every advancing in our careers. Since Artemis was recently promoted, you can see how ridiculous that assertion is. I need some cowboy boots.
This man in California is having a worse day than me. He thought he was letting this woman test drive his car.
She asked him to take her to a bank where she could get some cash, and get some cash she did because she came out with a bag full. What she neglected to tell him was that she was robbing the bank and using him as the getaway driver. They didn't get very far before the police caught up and she was arrested. Luckily, they believed the driver's story and didn't shoot him. So thank you, Mr. Inadvertent Getaway Driver, for reminding me to take my car to Carmax when it's time to sell it and to be grateful that I have never accidentally robbed a bank. Now excuse me while I shop online for some career-killing cowboy boots.
Speaking of not being a frump, I have mentioned before that it is one of my goals to be the most fashionable person in the Department without being a fashionista because I can't afford big name designers on my federal government salary. Thank goodness the foreign service doesn't have uniforms anymore because I would so not look good in this, although it might be fun to carry a sword at work.
But just because the federal government doesn't require uniforms for everyone doesn't mean there aren't those who want to impose them on you--the black pantsuit brigade, for example. I think some of these women are trying to emulate Secretary Clinton, but I will have you know that I saw her giving speeches twice and once she was wearing a jacket that was robin's egg blue and once it was white boucle. Hmmph. But one federal entity which shall remain nameless but was not the State Department published guidelines for a dress code that was ridiculous in the extreme. Apparently, women should all wear heels, make-up is a must, jackets are required, and you shouldn't have red hair. (Wish I were joking about that.) And if you are blonde, no bright colors. Also hose with open-toed shoes is a no-no. So as I was reading this dress code wearing my turquoise sweater and peep-toe heels with black nylons and of course red hair, I cracked up. Because obviously this dress code was written in 1946 by an idiotic old man who thought "Vogue" was a Russian/communist word and who doesn't know how to spell "faux pas." (He spelled it "fopas".) Break the rules at the peril of your career. I wish I had a copy of the dress code to post here, but I don't and also, I can't say which federal entity published it. But take my word for it. It was hilarious. I sent it to Artemis who told me at that very moment she was wearing cowboy boots, so both of us were breaking multiple rules and have no hope of every advancing in our careers. Since Artemis was recently promoted, you can see how ridiculous that assertion is. I need some cowboy boots.
This man in California is having a worse day than me. He thought he was letting this woman test drive his car.
She asked him to take her to a bank where she could get some cash, and get some cash she did because she came out with a bag full. What she neglected to tell him was that she was robbing the bank and using him as the getaway driver. They didn't get very far before the police caught up and she was arrested. Luckily, they believed the driver's story and didn't shoot him. So thank you, Mr. Inadvertent Getaway Driver, for reminding me to take my car to Carmax when it's time to sell it and to be grateful that I have never accidentally robbed a bank. Now excuse me while I shop online for some career-killing cowboy boots.
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