So, we all remember the Office Poncho, right? (RIP, Office Poncho.)
Well, that little beauty officially has a successor: The Camping Sweater.
How you doin?
I call it the Camping Sweater because that’s really the only place I’ve ever worn this sweater in public — in the middle of the woods. I bought it years ago for like, $8 because it was warm and nubby and wonderful, but upon arriving home and trying it on again, I realized it is in no way flattering and probably shouldn’t see the light of day very often. But it’s still warm and nubby and wonderful, so it has lived in my closet ever since. (A few jaunts to the wilderness aside.)
Which, incidentally, is why it makes such a perfect office sweater.
The office sweater can be difficult to select because you have to not mind wearing it in front of your coworkers, but not like it enough that you want to wear it often and need it at home where you’ll have regular access to it. It’s a delicate science.
In my case, Camping Sweater is almost perfect. The thing is, I don’t mind sitting at my desk wearing the old gal. My back is to everyone, and people are rarely swinging by to shoot the breeze, so for the most part, I would doubt would even notice if I was sitting here in a shapeless sweater or a lobster suit. (Well, maybe the lobster suit.)
The problem arises when I have to go to the bathroom, or refill my water bottle, or generally leave my desk area. I’ll usually opt to abandon Camping Sweater on my chair until I return.
Fact is, I’m clinging tightly to my title as most fashionable employee. (Not that it’s a difficult standard. I braid back my bangs and suddenly I’m the hippest one in the joint.) And waltzing around in a green dress, black tights, and navy Camping Sweater is the surest way to wave the proverbial white flag that I’m resigned to dowdy, corporate life.
I WILL NOT DO IT. AND YOU CAN’T MAKE ME, CAMPING SWEATER.
Which isn’t to say I don’t plan on living in it every second I spend at my computer. It’s freezing in here.