Dressed to distress

A coworker of mine turned to me at a wine-tasting event in Berkeley over the weekend. She explained that she’s frustrated with Berkeley’s lack of fashion. “Honey, you’re in BERKELEY,” I responded. People don’t live in Berkeley to show off their fashion sense. Even though she lives in the Elmwood area, which is a fairly nice part of Berkeley – big houses and chic shops, people still feel confident going to nice restaurants in sweatpants because hey, it’s Berkeley.

Growing up there, there was definitely a style. But the highschool fashion was perhaps not on par with other parts of the country – china flats, overalls, flowing floral skirts… were other high school students wearing these too?

It was not until I moved to New York, in fact, that I began to show any interest in fashion. People there are enamored with it and each new season bred a colorful array of the latest trend – fall jackets, winter boots, spring dresses… it was fun to show off the seasonal wardrobe. In addition, it wasn’t quite acceptable to a tank and flipflops to the office in Manhattan. I actually started shopping. I even wrote about it here and here. I made a humble attempt to keep up at least slightly with the fashionistas of Manhattan. I started dressing a little more my age, one could say.

That has changed since I moved back to San Francisco. Though many of my coworkers are fairly fashionable, no one really cares what I wear to work. And I’ve found myself arriving at the office in much the same outfits I wore to Berkeley High. In fact, sometime I think I’m literally wearing a T-shirt I bought in high school. Perhaps the winetasting coworker is offended by my jeans and sneakers. But, I’m pleased to say that I don’t really care. I’m comfy.