What does how we look say about us? What does it say in a professional context and what does it say in a personal context? We live in a world where the sweat pants culture has become the absolute norm. And, don’t get me wrong, leggings are a part of my life every single day. I could live in yoga pants and t-shirts, sneakers on my feet, without any hesitation.

But I grew up in a world, and a family, where how you looked mattered and, frankly, it still matters to me. My dad, who was born in Poland and came to this country as a teenager, was always concerned with his appearance. He worked hard to learn the language, making sure his English was unaccented and flawless. He read voraciously, in multiple languages, and embraced ideas and debate and talking to anyone and everyone. And he felt that his appearance was a key element in the identity he was building.

There is no question that my father was a clothes horse. None. Our house was filled with wooden portable closets, one in every bedroom, that were hung with his suits. Every suit was custom tailored for Dad and there were drawers of ties and often bags of new shirts. I laugh when I say that we saw my father’s tailor so often that I thought he was a part of the family, but it is true. I can still see Mr. Cabelka in my mind’s eye and remember all the family events to which he was invited.

Dad wanted himself to look perfect, I think because he feared that someone would see his as “less than” or “just off the boat.” His desire for sartorial perfection carried over to us as well. Dad was the person who bought my brother’s and my clothes, especially dress clothes, and he was always sure to assess us before we headed out the door.

I don’t claim that my love of clothes is a genetic predisposition but I do know that my dad’s focus on “looking your best” was one I inherited. I don’t, by any means, identify that as one of my best characteristics! In fact, my husband would tell you that my love of clothes (and all that goes with them) is my “only vice.”

I do care about how I look and I do love to wear clothes that support that. Whether business clothes or casual clothes, I have far too many of them and, more often than I care to admit, I find things in my closet that I forgot that I had.

In the early years of my career, I followed the conventional wisdom of dressing seriously. I wore lots of suits and, while I would push the envelope a bit on color (and sometimes skirt length!), I knew what a “sincerity suit” was for me. Over time, I have had more fun with my clothes, adding dresses, more pants and some skirts and tops to my collection. I confess that I love clothes, that I love new things, that I can absolutely feel that I “have to have” some garment or another.

And while I know that this habit/hobby/passion/vice of mine is part of my character, I also know that I still believe that the way we present ourselves makes a difference. It makes a difference in our credibility, it makes a difference in how others respond to us, it makes a difference in the effectiveness of our communication as it is part of the whole nonverbal package.

I understand that remote work allows a more relaxed style, especially if all that anyone ever sees is the top of you! But not every interaction is remote and not every conversation happens virtually. I am not suggesting that everyone needs to be the clothes horse that I am. Not at all. But I hope that we can return to a time and day when more people take pride in how they look, when they remember that our appearance carries weight as to how we are perceived, that it is okay to care about our physical selves in all ways and, in fact, it is a real part of overall self care.

I think that failing to care about how we come across diminishes us. And I don’t think it is silliness or vanity or distraction from our core but rather a way to build ourselves, to feel whole and to reflect what is in our full hearts.