Dress: Ann Taylor Loft;
Leaf pin and jade bracelet: Finder's Keepers.
How I've worn the dress before: here.
I am so humbled by your responses yesterday. It was very hard to hit "publish" on that post, so to read through all of your wonderful, thoughtful and kind comments was like receiving a giant group hug. I've kept these feelings so bottled up, so it was rejuvenating and amazing to read new perspectives on the situation. I can't tell you how much this blog community has meant to me in the last few months, and I am so grateful to have you not only as my lovely readers, but as my friends. You all really are so wonderful. Thank you so much.
I've already started work and I'm slowly getting used to the differences between 9-to-5 office environments and retail. Like getting my "weekend" days off during the week instead of Saturday and Sunday, and not being in front of a computer all the time makes me much more time efficient with it when I'm at home. So far, it's been pretty easy to listen and talk to customers -- as Closet 365 commented, perhaps my journalism background has made it easier to be outgoing (or at least fake it). So I've got that going for me, which is nice.
I thought I'd show you my work outfit from last night. I thought I would dress up a bit because I only had to work a few hours, so wearing Aerosoles heels and a dress wasn't uncomfortable, and it made me feel great to actually incorporate my own style into the dress code.
I also dressed up because it's Academichic's "Dress Your Best" week, in which the ladies of that blog have encouraged everyone to dress for their best attributes, instead of dressing to hide perceived flaws. I'm dressing for my legs today. For most of my life, I've had an antagonistic relationship with my legs. I spent most of my childhood and teens trying to hide or cover them because of the many scars I had from eczema, from mosquito bites during summer camp and from being naturally ungraceful. It took me a long time to get over the fear of being judged by my legs' appearance, when really, I should have appreciated them for what they were (and are): strong and capable. The marks became battle scars in my mind, and became reminders of how much I've gone through. My legs have done so much for me: they've survived preschool ballet, and middle school cheerleading. They've survived four years of being a summer camp counselor, and countless hiking trips. They've survived a summer of walking all over Manhattan, taking me to different wonderful nooks of the city. They've survived Diamond Head. They can handle eight hours of standing at work, and they can handle a pair of heels really well. And because of all those things, and many more, I'm going to celebrate them.