How to Dress for Success, 1967, by Edith Head – from awful library books
Ok, that’s exhausting.
I wish my face could have been captured on film when I was reading this…not pretty.
And it’s from the great costume designer, Edith Head. I can only imagine some publisher cooked up this book.
Are you kidding me? I’m tired too from reading this. Sort of a twisted version of the old Army recruiting line of “I do more before 7am than people do all day.”
It’s enough that my neighbors see me first thing in the morning, when I’m walking the dog.
Which reminds me of the time when I had my gallbladder removed. Got word from the apartment complex office that I received some flowers and so I put on the worst possible ensemble thinking I would not run into my neighbors. There I was, pale and walking stiffly with my sister, when the majority of my neighbors come across me. I turned to my sister and said…”Figures, I’m dressed like an idiot and here are all my neighbors.”
And where is the book that has how a man should dress to attract the woman he wants? Oh, yeah, right, I forgot, this is the REAL world.
My man prefers me to stay in my PJs all day, because he knows I’m not leaving, then. He snuggles up for a spoon and belly rub every morning, and if my breath is really funky, he tries to kiss me more. He prefers dirty socks to clean ones, and always drags a piece of dirty laundry into his bed for the night.
So, besides my dog, a man could either live with the fact that I’m a human being and not a fem-bot, or move along.
OK, I do agree that most of this is crap, but I kind of have to agree with #4. I hope that doesn’t mean that I have any time of Stepford blood coursing through my veins…
*type, not time
I like #4 too.
#4 is the only sensible thing in this screed. Though I’m unsure how it jibes with finding out how a man wants you to dress and act, and what he likes to do, and then doing that…
Despite itself, #4 is about the core truth. Be yourself!
Oh Edith, you should of stuck to designing hats.
#4 is at least worth keeping. The rest, toss.
When you start living for someone else, you start not living.
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