Today I modeled over 20 dresses. In the privacy of department store fitting rooms, that is. Turned out to be a good thing that I wasn’t on a runway, nearly all of my selections were horribly unflattering. Most of these fitted gems made it over my head (I think that’s good news) only to become stuck somewhere else. Side zippers slid safely over my waist, but it became apparent quickly that even sucking in air wasn’t going to allow their teeth to come anywhere close to meeting along my rib line. I think I actually pinched myself a few times. It didn’t make sense, there must be some foreign sizing program when it comes to the super hero costumes we call formalwear; nothing in the size of my Clark Kent business attire came close to fitting. It was exhausting, wiggling in and out of silk, sequins, lace, tulle, beads, satin, and brocade. Staring at myself in the mirror underneath what felt like a blazing, blemish-inducing spotlight, I couldn’t even muster a smile. Too fitted, too small, too girlish, too short, too revealing, too uncomfortable: Not one of them was just right.
By some miracle I came home with three, hopeful that in the more forgiving ambiance of my bedroom they’ll look better, so I can tell myself before I leave the house that I look good. I try to shop a few weeks before the event so that the disheartening selection process is a distant memory and I have a prayer at rallying some excitement for the big night. I can picture in my mind what I’d like to be wearing, but whether it exists anywhere, and in my price range is another matter entirely.
But the real question is why couldn’t I select a dress when I was out today? After reading "The Takeaway" on Fast Company this evening, I’m guessing it’s because I hadn’t decided what I wanted from the dress. This very short post talks about the idea that the best design thinking occurs when we pay attention to the jobs that need doing.
So what is the job that I’m hiring my dress to do? Simply put, at a black tie event, the dress needs to make me feel glamorous, extraordinary. That’s a tall order, and it means different things to different women. For me, I want to look my age, in a style that’s classic; Audrey Hepburn in “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” without that super long cigarette holder. A little clarity on my vision for the evening makes it obvious why I was unhappy with everything I tried on. I grabbed anything that qualified as formalwear, thinking I’d somehow cobble a look together if I found a dress that appealed to me. I think I had it backwards. Maybe I don’t need a glitzy gown at all. Maybe all I need is a simple black cocktail dress, opera gloves, a string of pearls, textured stockings and black heels. Hmmm.
What an interesting exercise, and all too familiar. Many of us do this all the time at work. We have a strategic vision and performance goals that we communicate to our teams. We socialize job descriptions, roles and responsibilities that are clearly spelled out. We have quality conversations to make sure we stay focused in the right direction and course-correct when needed. What if we applied this idea to life in general? Would we be happier people if we kept our relationship expectations front and center, and dialogued with loved ones to steer ourselves toward the outcomes that we desire? What if we spent time with our spouses talking about our vision for the marriage? If you were hiring for a husband, what are the “jobs” you’d want him to do?
Ironically, before I even read this takeaway from Fast Company, driving home from my lackluster shopping trip, I thought about the fact that I am yet again attending this black tie event solo. I’m really okay with it, but I allowed myself to imagine what I would most enjoy about having a date, my vision for the evening, so to speak. I like the whole idea of being looked after. I’d like my date to drop me off at the door before parking the car. Carry my lipstick and driver’s license, pay for drinks so I don’t need a purse. I’d like him to lean over at the table and whisper, just to me, how nice I look; make conversation when I can’t think of anything to say to the group. I’d like him to offer his suit jacket to me when I get chilled after dinner, even though it won’t fit me.
Relationships, just like businesses, fail when outcomes don’t match expectations. Even dream guy would likely need some kind of clue from me as to what he could do that would make my evening magical. And that’s the point. If we calibrate along the way, we have a much better chance of maintaining happiness. I bet if we approach relationships asking ourselves what exactly it is we’re in this to do for the other person it would change everything. If we were brave enough to affirm with those close to us what they’re looking for and work to deliver it, we would find joy and fulfillment. And we wouldn’t end up with dresses that don’t do anything for us.
I’m sure there is a little black dress in my closet. I’m ordering opera gloves on line. They can have them to me by Tuesday.
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