Clean Closet & Compelling Cause

BLOGGER'S NOTE:  This post, not my typical professional observations, advice, and RANTS, 
was written to purposefully inject some attention-shifting content into our current social media ethos seemly saturated by negativity (of a political nature). My message certainly won't change long-standing viewpoints or halt hate-filled rhetoric but if it makes someone reflect fondly on the innocence of childhood, think about and achieve an overdue goal, or simply smile at a stranger then I'll consider it a success.

Long before iPads and high-definition gaming systems prompted the imaginations of children, my older sister and I played our share of made up games. One that quickly became our favorite was conceived after a babysitter, unbeknownst to our parents, introduced us to Mommy Dearest on a newish channel, one we weren't allowed to watch unsupervised, called HBO.

The game was simple and exciting. In our small shared bedroom, we'd reenact

the now infamous movie scene where Joan Crawford, played by Faye Dunaway, finds wire hangers in her daughter Christina's closet. We took turns chasing each other around, across/under, our beds and in our most wild-eyed Faye Dunaway channeling Joan Crawford imitations, crazily would scream, "NO MORE WIRE HANGERS!!" then breathlessly giggle.

Certainly not the most educational of weekend activities, our mother at the time a 4th-grade teacher, was mortified that we found this so entertaining. At our young ages, we absolutely had no comprehension of the movie depiction's real-life severity. Mom well aware and finally having had enough, burst through our door yelling (she never burst or yelled), "No More 'NO MORE WIRE HANGERS!'" My sister and I so engrossed in our inappropriate fun stopped, looked up, and both wondered,"Does she want to play?!?!" Following that afternoon, we were prohibited from this favorite game and not so coincidentally, from our favorite babysitter.

With this vivid childhood memory simultaneously making me smile and cringe, I recently prepared to unpack my bedroom closet. Certainly not how I wanted to spend my Saturday morning, I'd made a promise to myself upon move-in to not allow my clothes to majority-rule my new condo. In a post-doughnut sugar high, I also decided to finally get rid of the remaining wire hangers, or wire hangers on, from my once upon a time dry-clean-only lifestyle.

Exhibit I: Pre-Closet Cleaning Dramatization

To say that I have a lot of clothes is well, ask my mom, sister or anyone who's ever helped me move, a bit of an understatement.  I've never met a black pair of pants I didn't find flattering or a pencil skirt, even without a No. 2 body, that wasn't a "timeless" must-have.  

In my defense, I no longer enjoy the space of a 1,500 square foot apartment. I'll never forget when I first saw the closet space; mirrored doors sliding on what seemed like a forever track. I fell to my knees, palms to popcorn ceilings, and loudly proclaimed, "I'm home!"

Exhibit II: Pre-Closet Cleaning Dramatization

Though I've significantly pared down post-Taj Ma "closet" hal, for sentimentality and a deeply ingrained I'll-wear-it-again stubbornness, I just couldn't get rid of among so many other treasured pieces the understated yet elegant gown I wore to my first and only inaugural ball or the denim Marc Jacobs peacoat with the big caramel colored buttons and over exaggerated stitching I bought but never wore when I first move to New York (a welcome to the city gift I knew then Major Bloomberg would want me to have). AND I cannot forget the geisha-inspired silk skirt I found in a Brooklyn boutique that only sold garments of reconstructed vintage fabrics (sigh).

After what felt like countless hours (accordingly to my watch about 45 minutes) of making amends with my unintentional childhood misbehavior, I realized a few things: My love for the color navy is therapy-worthy and Tory Burch could captain my shoe squad. Less sarcastically and more importantly, I reminded myself of another promise I'd made upon moving - to volunteer for an organization that supports women. Though my mom and sister unconvincingly tried to justify their need, I knew exactly what charity should share the reward of my intense and a bit traumatic closet unpacking and reorganization - Dress for Success.

For those not familiar, Dress for Success is a non-profit organization with a mission dear to my heart: "Promote the economic independence of disadvantaged women by providing professional attire, a network of support, and the career development tools to help women thrive in work and in life." 

Exhibit III: Newly organized closet!

As a woman who's had her share of professional interviews and now interviews professionals, I well understand the confidence and empowerment the right attire provides. When we look good, we feel good and project the confidence necessary to convince a hiring manager, "I'm the best candidate for the job!"

Thinking about how my clothing donation could make a difference felt great. Knowing, however, that an outfit alone cannot end the cycle of poverty experienced by so many of Dress for Success' female clientele, I wanted to do more. This is why I've decided to reach out to a local chapter and find out how I can share my professional resume writing, interview prep, and networking expertise.

I deeply value the knowledge, confidence, and financial security my career has provided me and want all women regardless of their life circumstances to experience the same. Specifically, I want them to land in a job, career, or professional adventure that they're passionate about just as I have and to help others along the way.