When I was in the third grade, I decided that I couldn’t be a doctor because no one would ever be able to see my clothes underneath those boring, white coats. If I was a teacher, on the other hand, I would get to wear whatever I wanted to wear everyday. This logic, ridiculous as it was, offers some insight into my values at the tender young age of nine. I had my priorities. First, be smarter than the boys in my class. Second, look great doing it.

Fast forward some fifteen or so years later, and lo and behold I am a teacher! But, I was not thinking of clothes when I applied for Teach for America. I was thinking of educational inequity and closing the achievement gap.

Clothes did become an issue, though, when it came time for my TFA interview. After three and a half glorious years frolicking around in the Claremont sun, I had amassed quite the arsenal of sundresses, gladiator sandals, American Apparel v-necks and oversized sunglasses, but I was not well versed in the category of professional attire.

The day my mom and I went shopping for a suit for my interview was almost as painful an experience as the wild goose chases we undertook while looking for homecoming and prom dresses in high school. There were many moments of frustration and strife, and we looked through many a sale rack before giving in and going to Banana Republic, where we found a very modest black suit that fit well (and of course wasn’t discounted). The next weekend I picked up some power pumps at Nordstrom Rack and I was set.

Little did I know that the suit and those power pumps were the beginnings of a takeover.

My beloved closet has undergone a complete transformation over the past six months. At Scripps, my hangers were laden with colorful dresses, funky sweaters, jeans and jersey. Today, those hangers hold blouses, dress pants, dresses (sleeved with knee-length hemlines), A-line skirts and sweaters. The most prominent color? Black.

In college, my blacks were reserved for working backstage crew assignments at the theatre. Now my blacks are ironed, pleated, cuffed and respectable looking, while also ready to camouflage the black whiteboard marker dust that finds its way onto any garment that is vibrantly colored. (My bright yellow skirt gets dingy every time.) Jeans are now reserved for weekends. My shoes are sometimes orthopedic and always closed toe; and, my Reef flip flops are for trips to the mailbox and Target.

At first, I hated it. I hated these frumpy teacher clothes. I felt like my creativity was being stifled. Not only did I have to wear a bra everyday (Oh, Scripps…), but I had to wear closed toe shoes and trade my Scripps College sweatpants for dress pants. Luckily, I got the hang of dressing like a teacher rather quickly.

Having experienced an interdisciplinary education helped with the transition to dressing like a “grown up.” I soon learned to mix a colorful blouse from my college days of yore with dark dress pants purchased for work, match bright shoes and a funky scarf with a conservative dress, and jazz up an oxford button down with those awesome earrings I bought from the vendor who sells jewelry outside of the entrance to Viva Madrid!

Mixing old and new pieces has allowed me not only to maximize my closet’s potential (cotton sundresses can be successfully worn under sweaters and blazers alike), but also retain a sense of individuality in my daily wardrobe choices. And on Thursday mornings, when my alarm goes off at 5:00 a.m. to remind me that I have an hour of traffic waiting for me, sometimes a fun outfit can be great motivation to pop out of bed and greet the 10 west with both a battle cry and a sashay.  (My nine year-old self would be proud.)

Moral of the story: be your workplace a cubicle, lab or classroom, you can always infuse an element of style into your work wardrobe that is unabashedly “you.” It makes the dress pants all the more bearable.