HOW TO DRESS LIKE A WRITER

I used to think full-time writers spent all day holed up in musty basement suites or drafty garrets, seldom leaving the comfort of their confines except to buy necessary things like toilet paper or a 12-pack of Mr. Noodle.

When they did leave their homes, I figured they dressed in a slovenly manner, were often rude to shopkeepers and yelled at children who rode their bikes on the sidewalk. (I think I thought this because of movies; writers in movies are often grossly self-involved and dysfunctional.)

But it would seem that a good number of writers spend lots of time being very social indeed: tweeting, Facebooking, blogging, getting "Linked In," Skyping, Instagramming, and stirring it up weekly on writer's forums. They also seem to get out of their sweatpants regularly to face real people out there in the real world. They busy themselves with school visits, author interviews, book signings, and readings, and do so with passion and gusto. (Well, at least they did before COVID started calling the shots.)

I've watched them and it’s all very daunting. Most of them are super articulate and lovely and can quote famous dead people with perfect composure and impeccable timing.

When did this happen? Who changed the rules? What about the bed head and the spaghetti stains on the shapeless "writing" sweater? What about awkward, stream-of-consciousness babbling when trapped by a shrimp plate at a party you never wanted to attend in the first place?

I got into this whole book-writing thing, believing it was perfectly acceptable for writers to hide out and have suspect social skills. I thought this was common knowledge. Apparently, I was wrong. Does this mean I need better shoes? (A former student of mine once said, "Mrs. Shaw? You're OK and everything, but you have the worst shoes of any teacher I know.") Sigh. I have since purchased Blundstones... Blundstones in the winter, no shoes at all in the summer if I can get away with it.

Still, if I’m being honest, I have always believed one of the best perks of being a writer is there is NO uniform. Don't get me wrong; I think there's a place for uniforms, and if you have to wear one, it makes getting ready for work a breeze. Uniforms are easy & can save you money. They are not, however, always attractive. The worst one I ever wore was back in the 80s when I worked at Denny's restaurant. The uniform was heinous: a flat brown polyester thing, with a hounds-tooth-patterned panel down the centre. I wore it four times a week, along with a pair of equally horrid & comfortable shoes.

That period of my life has given me a healthy appreciation for "ugly," because my current writing ‘uniform’ is pretty awful. I'm talking about my Ugly Man-Sweaters. All of them are oversized, & all of them are aesthetically-challenged. They are, however, super comfy, & when you're holed up all winter with your laptop, and tea that's gone cold, surrounded by empty boxes of Oreos, comfort is key.

Ugly Man-Sweater #1 made the cut because, while ugly and shapeless, it is argyle, & it is pure wool.

Ugly Man-Sweater #2 pushes "acceptable ugly" to the max. A drab olive green, it’s a sort of high-school-boyfriend-sweater-gone-bad kind of thing. Whatever. It's the coziest sweater I own & it can pull it over my knees. Bonus.

Ugly Man Sweater #3 is a pure cashmere, navy blue number—still my hands-down fave, mostly due to its soft-as-a-bunny's-ear feel against my skin. There are moth holes on one shoulder, but I will never part with it. Ever. Because… cashmere.

Now that winter is here, I know I’ll feel an urge to add to my Ugly Man-Sweater collection any day now. Working on a new book can do that to a person. So can Autumn. Autumn makes me think about rain & soup, & puddles, &... a new cardigan? Yes! Maybe one with big, ugly wooden buttons? Think Mr. Rogers! Think big pockets I can stash dog biscuits & lip balm in! Or, maybe I'll find an oversized, fisherman-knit gem, (previously worn by a rugged boat-builder from the Maritimes who smoked a pipe & had a loyal black Lab named Jock.)

Truth be told, I'm won’t actively seek out Ugly Man-Sweater #4; I know that when the time is right, it will find me.

So, at the end of the day, I guess dressing like a writer means wearing what feels “right” for you. What are your thoughts? What do your writing clothes say about you? I, for one, would love to know.

OK, back to work. Write on!