A few weeks ago, I came across this suit. It was black and fit me just right. The skirt ended just at the knee and the coat had this design at the back that just sang to me. It was a chance meeting between the suit and I, because I’d just taken Neena (one of my closest girl-friends) to have a suit adjusted…or swapped…I forget which. Neena is in the legal profession and by default, is a suit person, I am not. My first job was at a bank and I had enough of suits during those eight months. Or at least…I thought I had.
They say that The Clothes Maketh the Man. Since I do not know who they are, I have never really taken them at their word on anything. But my image in this suit has stuck with me. It slips into my thoughts unbidden; the image of me in the black, fitting suit that somehow managed to make an impression on me. My imaginations have paired the suit with a dark-red (but not quite maroon) blouse, and black patent leather 4-inch heels that are red at the bottom. *sigh* This is my new happy place.
The suit didn’t really kick me in the gut when I tried it on at first. I looked at my reflection and oooohed and aaaahed at how good I looked. I kept it on for longer than is appropriate at a clothing store; but no, this infatuation was no kick in the gut because again, I am was not a suit person. It’s kinda like those guys who you meet and they don’t immediately catch your fancy; but then you find yourself thinking about them weeks later and deciding that they are sorta witty and funny. An infatuation that goes beyond the superficial. Oxymoron? Perhaps.
My infatuation with this suit is being fed every day by a ghost-writing project that I am working on with Derek Bbanga. This project is bringing into question all the things that I did not know about using my appearance to make an impression. It is one thing to not know things about things, it is a whole ‘nother thing to suddenly know that there was so much to be known about the thing. That sounds like something Captain Jack Sparrow would say, but it is also true.
I want to go back to that store and get the suit. I want to find the pair of four-inch, black, patent leather heels from that very vivid fantasy I’ve been having. I want to get the blouse; dark-red, maybe with frills at the front to soften the look up some. I want to put this outfit together and find a place to wear it. No, I’m not going to wear it while typing away on my laptop at home. This suit calls for a big debut – like a presentation of sorts. A presentation that will require a PowerPoint presentation and a laser pointer. Or a business meeting, the likes of which are held at Laico. I will name her, the suit. A soft but powerful name that denotes both its importance and the extreme woman’ness that it brings out in me. A name like…Charlotte.