I know that you know that this doesn't work!

Last week was one of those weeks where I just couldn't catch up to where I was supposed to be. All week I felt ten minutes late and ten minutes away. I was getting it done, but just barely. It's a feeling I hate. I prefer being well prepared and ahead of the game.

Imagine my horror when this extended into an egregious fashion faux pas.

First, allow me to set some context. I always select my work outfit the night before. I'm not a morning person, so it would take me three times as long if I didn't do it this way, and I also know I would let things slide. I wouldn't feel like switching handbags, for example, so I'd just go out with a purse that simply isn't right because it's the one I carried yesterday. I'd regret it the moment I came before the scanning eyes of subway riding fashionistas, but in the haste of getting out the door I know I'd just blow it off. So I pull it together the night before. (Side note: if I ever have to wear shoes for the commute and they really don't go with my outfit, I make sure the shoes I'm going to change into are visible - peaking out the top of my handbag, for example. If that isn't possible, I feel like screaming out: "I KNOW these don't go with my dress! I have my real shoes in the bottom drawer of my desk, and they're perfect for this ensemble!")

Within this framework of obsessive compulsive dressing, you can imagine I selected last Tuesday's outfit carefully on Monday night. Several factors had to be taken into account:

• Tuesday was September 11th. I always wear a small pin made by a former colleague's son in 2001 as part of a fundraiser for the victims' families. My outfit had to be simple enough that the pin (a funky version of the flag) would be visible but not overly obvious. So, probably black.


• I would be attending focus groups with Clients. The back room at these facilities is always freezing. I needed something that could accommodate layers and be comfortable enough to sit in for several hours.


• My handbag would need to be large enough to accommodate the files I'd want at the groups.


• After the groups, we'd be attending dinner at an old New York steakhouse. So nothing trendy.

None of this was easy because we're also in that awkward time of year when the seasons are changing and nothing in my closet seems exactly right. I ended up in a respectable, but conservative outfit without an ounce of flair. Pleated skirt. Black sweater. Small jacket. Ballet flats.

So guess what happened!? The dinner venue changed mid-morning. Instead of an old-school New York steak house as originally planned, I ended up in the private dining room of The SOHO House. I was wearing the absolute wrong outfit. The SOHO House is a trendy hipster spot located in the heart of the meatpacking district, open only to private members (one of our Clients is a member). It's quite the celebrity, euro-jet-setter crowd, and here I show up in a dorky pleated skirt and flats with a handbag that looks like a briefcase. As we were led past the Dolce & Gabbanna clad crowd snootily sipping whatever the tendy cocktail was for that 10 minute period, I felt just as I feel on the subway when I'm in the wrong shoes. I wanted to scream, "I selected this outfit to fill very specific functional needs! I didn't know I'd be here! This is not representative of what's in my closet at large, and by the way - this would have killed at Kean's Steakhouse!"

It gets worse. When I completed my walk of shame and was finally sequestered away in the private room, safely out of the view of the fashion nazis, I looked down only to realize I was still wearing the dorky corporate looking "Visitors Badge" sticker that had been forced upon me by security at the focus group facility.

I can never show my face south of 14th Street again. I'll miss Pastis.

(Update: The real story. It was hard not to realize how trivial all this outfit nonsense was the instant we were seated in the dining room. There was a large window facing south, and it allowed an open view to two stunningly bright columns of light reaching for the sky from Ground Zero. A stark reminder to pay attention to what's important.)