When I was 4, a woman walked up to my mom at church and started a seemingly harmless conversation. "Did Cambria dress herself today?"
Elated, my mother proudly replied, "She did!"
It was the first time I had been allowed to fully dress myself, and my mom was thrilled someone had noticed.
The woman then replied, "That is wonderful, and she did a great job, but she is doing cartwheels in the courtyard and forgot to put on underwear."
21 years later and my experience with clothing and fashion has not improved much.
While I may joke that my parents should be proud any day that I can properly dress myself (and put on underwear), I still have my moments. For instance, finding an extra pair of underwear in the leg of my pants when having a serious conversation with a friend who was having a life crisis. However, the highlight of my bad experiences with clothing happened only a few months ago.
I was sitting at my desk at work when suddenly I noticed things seemed a little breezy on my legs...a little too breezy....I casually glanced down and noticed that I had torn a rather noticeable hole in the inner thigh of my black pants.
Inconvenient? Yes. Annoying? Yes. Something that could be mostly avoided if I didn't leave my desk for the day? Yes.
Panic began to set in as I remembered that in exactly 30 minutes I had a high-profile constituent visiting the office for an important meeting. There was no doubt in my mind that if I didn't find a solution immediately that I would be reliving that experience of when I was 4 and accidentally got a little too personal with my colleagues.
I ran through my options. I had no time to drive home and change. I didn't have a sewing kit on me. I COULD run across the street to the mall and purchase a change of pants, but it would likely make me late for my meeting.
In a flurry of movement, I opened and closed every drawer at my desk, searching for anything, and I mean anything, that could solve my problem. In a stash of office supplies, I saw three things.
A bright yellow sticky note
Neon Orange Duct Tape
A Black Sharpie
It would have to do.
I took the bright yellow sticky note and set it down on the desk. With careful precision (read: frantic scribbling) I colored the entire post-it note in black sharpie until none of the yellow was peaking through. Then, I walked to the bathroom and fixed the now-black post-it note to the inside of my pants, securing it with multiple layers of neon orange duct tape. With a last look in the mirror to ensure that my ruse would work, I walked out the door and almost immediately ran into multiple of my coworkers.
I walked around the entire day of professional meetings with a post-it note and duct tape in my pants and no one was the wiser.
While fashion has never been my strong point, making the most of embarrassing situations surely is. To paraphrase the eternal words of Tim Gunn, I "made it work."