The retiring office attire

Two months ago, as I walked to a new job wearing a new suit, a fresh shirt, and Moroccan moon boots, I wondered about the devolution of office clothing…

How long does it take for a new employee to give up all appearances of being professional, and just accept they’re only as good as the job they do?

I think I got my answer on Friday: Two months.

That was the day I turned up wearing green socks, a cardigan, a 10 o’clock shadow (working days start later here), and under my cardigan, a woman’s blouse fit for someone half my size. At least it had a collar, which by 2pm was not only still creased, but also stained with sushi.

It was the piece de resistance after a tough week, which had started on Monday with Benoit telling me: “You know Sam, in France NO-ONE wears t-shirts under their shirts.”

On Tuesday I took the advice, and donned a blue Bonds singlet under my shirt instead.

“But SAM!” said Benoit, “a singlet?…that’s even worse!”

Come Friday I didn’t tell him about the blouse.

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