He said he liked my bag and the color of my nails, he can see that I got it going on…
 -Beyonce, Video Phone

      My boss looked pretty beat up today. Not my direct boss, actually (he’s always on his A game), his boss. The boss’s bosses were out at a photo shoot somewhere top secret –Well, not really top secret, I’m just not important enough to have been filled in — and then headed out to Puerto Rico for another meeting. I found out, with my awesome elevator talk, they worked all through Saturday. Giving them one day off to relax before the work week started back up.

      The big boss wears whatever she wants. I’ve seen her walk around the office barefoot and no one has the nerve to look down at her feet. I wonder though how she came to this point. I’d love to have a peek at her resume, just to know what type of work she did before she got to where she is. What kind of position do you have to have to walk around your office barefoot? This is the same place where, one day when I wore my Sperry’s, some lady said “Look. Someone wearing flats.” As she pointed at my feet. Don’t get it twisted: My Sperry’s are the flyest they come (see them in my “Dress The Part” post). 
    At my job, labels drip from the employees as steadily as coffee does from the Keurig. While I know what labels I’m wearing, I don’t admit it when I’m asked out of fear that I’ll pronounce it wrong. That is not happening. I wore a dress my sister gave me the other day from Milly. When a co-worker asked me where it was from, I said nothing. Little did I know I was wearing a $300 dress. I should have bragged right then and there, but hopefully, she’ll stop by the store on Madison Ave (if she can even afford to shop there) and and think I was just being humble rather than stupid.  As I helped my direct boss clea out a space yesterday, he thumbed through an old issue of Vogue and stopped at an ad. “I have these Gucci sunglasses,” he said. Then he closed the magazine and kept it moving. My other boss was sitting in her office once and, to start conversation, I said “I love your bag.” “Oh, Prada! Last season!” she said, continuing on to explain how the deerskin bag naturally changes from brand new to vintage look over time. All I could think was Fuck… Prada? I want Prada! 

    I want to dress like a boss. There is no Sean John here. No Rocawear. Nothing against those brands but I want to know what my bosses are wearing. I need to know. I know this sounds like a “biter” move, but I try to dress like them. I figure, if I dress the part, I’m halfway through the battle. This industry is all about appearance and I’m not mad at it. I want to get to the point where appearance matters so much, it doesn’t matter at all. Like the fact that the big boss looked bummy as hell but walked out with an camel-colored Hermes Birkin bag (which I can’t find on the website.. but similar bags go for $4,450.. so imagine) draped over her arm. Never again will I judge what she has on…. but I know that one day I will be able to. Simply because I want to. But the question I’m left with is… how ,much money do you have to have before you stop giving a fuck?

Hermes “Birkin” 

     Some people think that being concerned with fashion and money is a waste of time; that it won’t get you anywhere. Something like the guy I went on that terrible date with (read “Arrogantly Humble” for details). I see it the complete opposite. I have things to work towards. Some people want a (semi) new car or a new game system. I want shoes but I don’t want anymore ALDO. I want bags but I don’t want anymore Longchamp. Like Fabolous said in his latest single You Be Killin’ Em (download here), “Looking good has its sacrifices. Chilly weather brings 4 figure jacket prices.” –I knew I had that song on repeat for a reason!

     Half the battle of the fashion industry is simply knowing what is what. Being able to point out a certain brand without having to see it on the tag. Sometimes, the most expensive products are the ones without monograms. While Louis Vuitton is great, sometimes the value is diminished by how loud the design is. Chic is the way to go. So give me a couple years to be flashy –I promise I will, but when I get the right change… you won’t have any idea what I have on. ONe thing I’ll guarantee, my purse will probably be more valuable than anything inside of it: $20 lipgloss? $400 phone? A cancelled credit card? Have fun with that!

   I’m a girl with goals. First, it was, make the baseball team, the the basketball team, then get into private school, then get into college, then get a job. After that, my goals have been either “look good & shut the club down” or “finish this book”. Now? I want a Birkin Bag. I probably won’t have as many as say, Victoria Beckham… but one will do. Shallow? I know. Honest? Indeed. Achievable? Better believe it. At least I’m working towards something of my own.

Ohh!! & for those of you who need a rap song to buy into commercialism, here’s some Jay-Z in 30 Something for you: “My chick burning down Bergdorf’s, coming back with Birkin bags. Your chick is like, ‘What type of purse is that?'”

One question: Which chick do you want to be?