How not to Dress for Success

I'm a manager, so I try to dress reasonably smartly.  I'm not really a 'corporate' kind of gal though, so luckily I work in tertiary education where smart-casual errs on the side of casual, and quirk is an acceptable substitute for shoulder pads and power suits.

New Zealanders are also fairly evangelical about our right to 'casual Friday' (aka 'dress-down Friday') and I am no exception, but even so, as a manager I 'dress down' less than I used to.

Normally.

Yesterday morning I must have been particularly tired when I dressed myself, and I actually did dress in the dark.  As a result I was dressed more 'Friday' than usual - denim capris, grey tee-shirt, navy cardigan and my favourite Diesel trainers.

Now, this wouldn't have been a disaster on most Fridays, but it wasn't until my Google Calendar booped at me at 11.25 that I remembered I had a launch (and lunch) function to go to at 11.30.  I was there as a representative of our governing body, as one of the elected staff members, and the guest of honour was, well, the Prime Minister.  Crap.

I had RSVPd, and knew they would have provided vegan food just for me, so I didn't feel right not going.  I bumped into my boss and her boss on my way down, and they tried to convince me it would be fine; people would just think I was a student representative.  Needless to say, though, I felt completely conspicuous and uncomfortable from the minute I walked in the door, and spent the entire time hanging near the back, half-pretending I was there for something else.

There were several interesting people in attendance who I would have liked to talk to, but there was no way I was going to do it dressed as I was, so I scarpered out and away the minute the formal bit was over, swiping a vegan wrap and a couple of spring rolls into a napkin on my way out.

When I got back to the office I still felt uncomfortable and despite the horse having well and truly bolted, I couldn't concentrate on work until I changed.  So I made a quick trip down to that trusty standby, The Warehouse, and re-suited myself in a long swishy top, black leggings and black ballet flats, for a grand total of $42.00.  If I'd only realised the function was on half an hour before I did, I could have shopped to more effect!

While I can see the funny side of the whole thing, I'm still also mortified. And I plan to keep a generic dressy outfit hanging on the back of my office door in case of future sartorial emergencies.