Dressing like a doctor, Part II

I mentioned in a previous post (Dressing like a doctor, Part I) my unsuccessful attempt to break free of the stodgy middle-aged travel knit look of Chico's into the young modern insouciance of Anthropologie. This weekend I tried a less ambitious attempt to look the professional part while out on errands.

I inevitably run into patients at my local King Soopers when I'm decked out head to toe in my son's hand-me-downs. One seventy-something patient, beautifully dressed for church in heels and a silk dress, eyed me up and down in produce and said "My don't you look comfortable." So yesterday I donned a blouse over jeans that actually fit, a necklace, and a touch of make-up, and headed for Rite-Aid and Sunflower Market.

Score! Ran into patients at both stores, and no need for embarrassment!

Dressing like a doctor

Long-time readers know that more than a little thought goes into that sassy professional look I sport at work. From the time I finish hanging out in my robe, reading the paper and drinking my coffee, to the time I roll in the office door dressed more or less like a doctor and ready for action, some 35 minutes have passed. And most of them spent fretting over what to wear and what, once again, to do about my hair.

Imagine my delight when my medical partner called me the other afternoon to "Quick, put on Oprah! It's a show about us!" Indeed, Oprah was featuring middle-aged fashion disasters, including one poor soul whose ungrateful teenager called the fashion police on her. Well, Adele and I may be stuck in yesterday's Chico's, but at least we're not still wearing flowered mini-skirts or fishnet stockings. Oh wait, I never wore those, and neither did she.

Adele was so moved, she went for a makeover. No, that's not me up at the top of this post, it's her, and believe it or not, some of our patients can't tell us apart. And me? I just discovered that Tuesdays are Senior Half-Price Day at the local St. Vincent de Paul Thrift Store.

Dressing like a doctor

I am dreadfully tired of travel knit. So I went off to Cherry Creek Mall in search of a new look and found a lacey white blouse of the kind that looks so great on young models. Just the thing to team up with a '80s broomstick skirt from the depths of my closet.

Dear heaven, what was I thinking? I put the whole look together this a.m.--like the leading lady in a senior production of "The Sound of Music." Who wants to see a healer who resembles Heidi on Geritol? Nice neck, doctor...a little crepey perhaps.

Just returned the blouse to Anthropologie and took the skirt to Goodwill.

Dressing like a doctor, Part III: Eyebrows and Exercise

I've mentioned in two previous posts my difficulties in achieving that look of professional insouciance, particularly when I have zero fashion sense whatsoever.

I recently saw an article on the well-groomed brow, not sure where, Good Housekeeping perhaps? This model had impeccably shaped eyebrows, lush and burnished. I neglected to note how she achieved them, but thought perhaps just a touch of brown color would take mine there.

Think Frida Kahlo with a stethoscope. No one actually was so bold as to ask me what the heck happened to my eyebrows, but then again the only two people who actually take notice of my appearance--Jean at my office and my daughter--weren't there to check the look. I've decided to chuck that look.

In a second fashion foray, I sought a new outfit for exercise class, no more wearing my son's cast-off t-shirts. I found the perfect accessory in the Univ. of Northern Colorado bookstore as I whiled away two days at freshman orientation pretending I did not know my son. For his sake.

A perky little Northern Colorado tee, gray with blue lettering, just the match for my sassy, blue exercise capris. Even if my co-exercisers did not mistake me for a co-ed, surely they'd think me a physician in the know.

Damn, I don't know how the college girls fit in these tees. I bought the large size and spent the entire class today tugging it down in front. I'm going to send the shirt to my daughter and resurrect Mike's hand-me-downs out of the ARC bag.