Dress to Impress

This morning, I woke up groggy--as I do every morning, I am NOT a morning person--rolled over D'Souza rubbing a sweat-soaked hand over my bleary eyes and pulled out a bright green, button-down, silky shirt and a pleated, knee-length, white skirt with a multitude of multi-colored flowers adorning it. I paired this ensemble with a small, red leather, elbow-dangler bag and bright red, soft-leather shoes--a recent gift from Tracey.

I seemingly floated to work, not noticing the favorable greetings I garnered. However on my daily Starbucks run I ran into a barista who frequently served me at the Wall Street location--he had been transplanted to Water Street, my current closest Starbucks. He beamed at me with recognition, clasping my hand in his own and requesting I return with the frequency and fervor with which I had graced him in our shared previous life. From Silverstein Katz-->German Bank-->Non-profit Do-Gooder Union entailed Water St.-->Wall St.-->Water St. confirming that the financial district of Manhattan is very, very small indeed--geographically, at least.

My growling stomach led me to ABP across the street where I was greeted with warm smiles--I could hear the theme song of Cheers playing in the back of my brain--the nice man who made my breakfast sandwich complimented my shirt, the lady at the counter insisted that they would still serve me breakfast even though they were removing the breakfast menu, and the cashier wished me a very nice weekend and a happy mother's day. I balked. Am I to assume that all these people saw me as someone's MOTHER?! Do I look that old? Was I having a fat day? YEEESH.

I stepped back outside, shaking the growing suspicion that despite the bounce in my step passers by perceived me as less than youthful and exuberant, and continued back to my current office location with the yuppy, capitalist accoutrements I had collected on my morning pilgrimage.