Professional style, in theory

Yesterday I gave a talk at work about professional style. Which feels a little surreal, considering I spent most of my childhood hiding from Lily Pulitzer in Old Navy sweatpants.

But here we are. Grown, employed, and wearing accessories on purpose.

The talk - and this newsletter - is not about fashion rules and office-appropriate hemlines. It's an idea that has been churning in my head for awhile now: the quiet power of getting dressed with intention. I've been thinking a lot about presence and the stories our clothing are already telling, even when we're just trying to make it to the metro on time.

We're all wearing stories. Some borrowed, some reclaimed. Some still unfolding.

My style started as a generational inheritance of discernment. My mom is the ultimate Maxxinista or online shopper, the kind who can unearth a pristine wool coat from the clearance rack of a consignment shop like its prized possessions from deep sea wreckage.

It wasn't entirely about frugality - though we were practical - it was about instinct. The right piece speaks. A silk blouse with weight. A jacket with structure. A fabric that understands your shape before you've even zipped it up. I learned to reach for what felt like me before I had the language to explain why.

But eventually I changed. After dealing with health issues for several years I experienced a significant weight loss. The clothes I'd worn for years no longer fit, physically or emotionally. My wardrobe felt like a biography someone else had written. Too defensive, too much like I was trying to disappear in the background of my own life.

Style suddenly wasn't just about aesthetic —it became a process of translation. Who was I now? What did I want to say, and what did I no longer need to explain?

And so piece by piece I began to rebuild. Not from scratch, but with new criteria. Could I move in it? Did it feel honest? Would I wear this version of myself to a hard meeting - or a coffee with friends?

I found myself drawn to things I used to avoid: a sharp shoulder, a high waist, a heel, even. Clothes that framed my new body.

A new favorite power suit — found secondhand and altered slightly to feel like mine. Every time I put it on I feel a little closer to the version of myself who doesn't need armor, just a little structure and a well-placed seam.

One thing that has occurred to me in this new era: sometimes getting dressed is the most strategic thing you do all day. You're choosing how to show up and telling the room what matters to you.

Because clothing communicates and presence doesn't have to be loud to be legible. Sometimes it's in a well-worn sweater, a vintage tag, or a color you reach for without thinking.

Style when you strip it of performance, is a form of self-trust. And dressing like you believe in yourself — not just in your best day, but on an ordinary Thursday afternoon — might be the most radical thing of all.

Thank you for reading a short (and delayed) newsletter- have a great weekend!

Until Soon,

Sarah