Among all the unfamiliarities of the new job – an actual title, a job at a corporation where I get my own cubicle, attendance being recorded – the biggest joke is the fact that I now work for a fashion business. Acquaintances, especially female ones, would congratulate me on landing such a cool gig, but my close friends knew better. “You? In fashion?” they’d ask incredulously. My sister just had her engagement ceremony where both families meet, very formally, and my dad casually introduced me as “in consulting”, this despite the fact that I was wearing ankle boots with my Javanese kebaya. I’m supposed to act or feel hurt, but even the most confident part of my brain agrees. Like anyone slowly settling into adulthood, I’ve devised self-empowering mantras for rainy days. “You’re better than this,” I’d tell myself, “Put down that nacho.” On occasions I can go as far as “That’s just how good I am, guys”, but never have I dared to believe in my sartorial talent.
But being in this line of work requires a fashion taste that goes beyond “sensible”, so ever since I’ve started, I’ve become more sensitive to shopping and style. I say “style”, not “clothes”, because hey presto, that’s what being more sensitive to fashion does to you. You realize the “look” is actually a lot more than clothes – accessories, bag, shoes, fit, makeup, hair. I’m gradually uncovering the secret.
Which is why when I found a set of suspenders from my dad’s closet, labeled 1989 and priced at $1.50, I took it and wore it to work the next day. Working in fashion means that this is considered a “risky move”, but apparently I’ve pulled it off, this based on my colleagues commenting and manhandling the vintage ornament to ensure its proper affixing on my chest. This is going from the world of consulting firms, where people dress in black suits and casual friday is button-down shirts. The culture shock is not unlike visiting a new tribe, with their unfamiliar customs, and I would often wish I can take photos of the stunning villagers.
The next day, I wore a jumpsuit to work, something I’ve never imagined doing, having never owned a jumpsuit before. Not satisfied with the “look”, I added a belt and a necklace, attached a bracelet to my right arm, and – for the first time in four years – forgo the flats and wore heels. For good measure, I added a touch of burgundy red lipstick. People at home repeatedly asked me where I was going. At work, some loved it, most said nothing, and that’s probably the most eerie part of this story. I seem to have blended in.
Tika Anindya 