I don't believe I dress badly, but I know I also don't dress with nearly the panache and personality of some of the people I know. Mostly because I hate shopping. And because finding one piece of an ensemble that I love pretty much guarantees that I won't be able to find anything else to go with it. Or shoes. I don't think there is but 1 pair of shoes in 3000 that actually fits my feet.

Anyway, just because I can't manage the artistic wardrobe-expression of my sterling person doesn't mean that I don't eye others' success at such with considerable envy. And it definitely doesn't mean that I don't wish to miraculously find something new and exciting in my closet some morning. Especially when I'm dressing for work.

I hate work clothes, particularly those I wear to Barnes & Noble. Because I'm on my knees much of the day picking up or organizing books, I can't wear skirts or cute shoes (even if I might find them) or pants sans pockets. So that leaves a very narrow collection of clothing to rotate through my week. There have been days in the past that I dreaded pulling out that same pair of pants and that same shirt.

Here, though, at a B&N so different from what I'm used to that I feel like a rank newbie---even when I *know* I'm following company procedure---those same clothes are rather like armor. As though, in putting them on, I become SuperBookseller of Superior Suggestive Selling, Consummate Customer Service, and Marvoulous Membership Earning! Those clothes are a reminder of my capable handling of an entire, insane kid's department. Of a work style that, if different from my current store's, must have been doing *something* right. Of all the people I knew who made working at the old store a joy, even on my bad days.

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