The thermometer on my dashboard said 96 when I pulled out of the office lot at 4:50 last Thursday, and I was still wearing a cardigan. I didn't notice until the merge onto I-565, when the AC still hadn't caught up and I was starting to sweat. I'd been in a 68-degree conference room since 2 p.m., and my body was still taking orders from it.
That's my summer in two numbers. North Alabama in June is mid-90s and air you could wring out. Inside our building, the big conference room sits around 68 no matter what month it is. Three days a week I walk a third of a mile between the two, from the far end of a big surface lot. So I dress for both, and I've gotten a lot better at it since my first summer at this job.
Fabrics that survive the parking lot
The walk from my car takes about seven minutes. In July that's long enough to undo a nice blouse. Here's what has worked for me and what hasn't.
- Works: cotton knits, linen blends, lightweight chinos, unlined trousers and anything loose enough that air can move.
- Works with a caveat: linen-blend pants wrinkle in the car. I've decided I can live with a few creases behind the knees.
- Doesn't work: polyester blouses, which turn into a personal sauna by the second row of cars; lined pants; ponte knits after May; and light gray tops that show every step of the walk.
I added two pieces for this summer: navy linen-blend pants from Old Navy for $35, and a cotton knit midi dress from Target for $30. A month in, the pants have been washed six times and still look fine, wrinkles aside. The dress is the coolest thing I own, and also the thing I most need a layer over once I'm inside.
Layers, in the order I put them on
- The commute layer. A sleeveless or short-sleeve knit top and light pants. This is what I wear in the car and across the lot. The AC runs on high for the first ten minutes of the drive, and I have made my peace with that.
- The blazer, on a hook. On client meeting days my navy blazer rides on the hook behind the driver's seat. It goes on in the lobby, not in the parking lot.
- The cardigan that lives in my desk drawer. It's the gray one from Old Navy, $25, and it hasn't been home since March. It's plain enough to go with everything and thin enough to fold flat. When I sit down at my desk, it goes on. When I leave, it comes off and goes back in the drawer. Most days.
- A thin cotton scarf. For long meetings in the cold room, when the cardigan isn't enough and I'm not about to put on a blazer for an internal status update.
From the HR side: at the hospital, thermostat complaints were one of the most common things that landed on my desk, and I never once saw anyone win. The building is going to be the temperature the building wants to be. It's easier to bring a cardigan than to start a campaign.
What else is in the drawer
The cardigan has company. My desk drawer also holds the scarf, a travel-size deodorant, a lint roller, a stain pen, a few safety pins and a hair tie. All of it together cost under $20, and it has saved more than one afternoon.
I still do my 20-minute lunch walk on office days, but in summer I go before noon and stick to the shady side of the loop. The blazer stays upstairs.
So far this summer I've spent $65 on work clothes, and I don't expect to spend more before September. The rest of the job is done by things I already owned and one drawer.
Harper asked last week why I wear a sweater to work when it's 90 degrees outside. I told her it's 68 degrees inside. She thought about that for a second and said, "So you're dressing for a different state." That's about right.
