Quiet Rebel Writer

In my previous 9-to-5 incarnations, I dreaded many things. The daily commute on crowded CTA buses of needlessly bitchy people, the inane office politics that resembled high school cliques, the need to sit at my desk even when all the work for the day was done. But I especially hated dressing up, even to the low standards of business casual that our offices mandated.

All that changed when I became a freelancer. Now the uniform is yoga pants or cargo pants, topped with a nice hooded sweatshirt. And now I find that when I do need to dress up for the occasional client meeting or professional group, I put some effort into it. I forgo that past uniform of dress-pants-button-down-shirt and have fun with fancier clothes.

Some think that the freelancer downfall is this ability to wear “unprofessional” clothes. For as many bloggers and fellow writers that admit to donning the duds that are most convenient and comfortable, there are others who contend that freelance writers will never attain their full potential without acting professional, down to dressing up each day. This raises interesting questions about professionalism, and its association with the accoutrements of traditional office life. Are we only dissuaded from engaging in orgies and other antisocial behavior at the workplace because of the office walls, office drones, and presence of management? Are we only productive members of society because we throw on some tailored pants and shirt with buttons?

Most of us do have that switch in our heads, the one that signals “business person” mode, apart from “drunken boorish porn-lover” mode. But I believe we can flip that switch at will. I know that freelancers in particular have become adept at flipping that switch, compensating for their increased freedom by providing genuine, on-demand professionalism and productivity. And it has nothing to do with the clothes we wear.

For me, comfy clothes make me productive. At previous jobs even a closely fitting shirt would often wear me down over the day and distract me with discomfort. Plus the fact that I had to wear a certain something just rankled my anti-authority adolescent lurking within. Now, I get up in the morning, throw on some luxuriously comfortable duds, and get to it. When I’m on the phone with a client, I channel my businesswoman altar ego and do just fine. And when I venture out into the real world to meet someone face to face, I relish the chance to wear that new skirt and fancy boots.

How does your daily dress affect your work?