Gender and Dress: Personal Reflection
I first became acutely aware of gender in the early days of my first job out of university and observations I made about the way professionals dressed. It was 1990. It took me more than a decade to sort out my own professional identity as a woman. This is a condensed version of my story.
Working as a manager in a male dominated business, I noticed that the other managers, men, wore suits, as the norm. The only women working there were Executive Assistants or in accounting or word processing. They dressed like women: feminine, skirts, dresses. Except for Janice, my first “real world” role model, who was a Manager. She dressed, well, like a man: baggy trousers, flat sensible shoes, short hair, little makeup and oxford button up shirts. The media portrayed the same image of the woman-in-power: Murphy Brown, the acerbic television news personality in the sitcom of the same title was also my role model. Ditto on dressing like a man: boxy blazers, neck scarves, slacks vs. skirts.
Searching for the secret to gender identity in the workforce, I read Games Mother Never Taught You by Betty Lehan Harragan. Billed as “the classic guide to making it in a man’s world” it was written in 1977, and quite frankly should have never still been on book shelves in the early 90s. Stupid me, I never looked at date of publication. The book offered some absurd suggestions — absurd by today’s standards: dress like a man. Never wear footwear that will prevent you from keeping up with them. Never carry a purse, learn how to talk jock talk so you will be included in their conversations.
I followed the advice of the book, and the trends of women I admired. I wore boxy, double breasted blazers, baggy pleated trousers, flat or sensible shoes. Nothing was ever figure flattering. I kept my hair short and wore thick framed men’s tortoise shell glasses deliberately to intimidate, should I need to clout and power in the boardroom.
I used to study the male manager. My boss — the master of the sexual innuendo — would take his jacket off in a meeting, roll up his sleeves and lean forward. This was his way of saying, I’m in charge, let’s get down to business. I tried the same move in an important meeting where I was to lead the joint-production of a news release in a very short time. I made a conscious effort to beat him to the punch. I deliberately wore an outfit where I could appropriately remove the jacket…but I had to do it quickly. I did and you know what? The meeting was mine. I owned that boardroom, full of some of the top male economists in Canada.
Flash forward 12 years later: I started working with an executive coach when I became vice president at the age of 32 at one of Canada’s largest companies. Male executives claimed I had an “edge” (I realize now this is a term given to a female who demonstrates male characteristics; someone who is decisive and challenges status quo). At our first meeting, the coach observed that everything about me was pointy — pointy-harsh eyeglasses, pointy-toed shoes. I was still dressing like a man (see photos as evidence).
I began my transformation. I started appreciating that I didn’t have to hide the fact I was female, that I didn’t have to blend per se, I just had to demonstrate my femininity appropriately and respectfully. I grew my hair out. I wore my contact lenses more and eventually got laser eye surgery. I wore suits, but chose styles that were figure flattering. In the summer, I wore professional, yet fashionable dresses.
I’m not sure it did my career any favours — in fact, the transformation might have led me to confirm what I think I knew all along — that this was not the place for me; this was not where I wanted to spend the rest of my career. I dare say though, it did help me personally. As the edge softened, I became more attractive — externally and internally. Feeling more comfortable with who I was and how I looked led me to look and feel more approachable. Approachable enough that I attracted the attention of an aspiring artist and carpenter — the least corporate human I could find. This was the person I would choose to be my partner for the rest of my life, and from the moment I met him, my life course was altered in ways I never imagined nor anticipated.
