Pockets

I was part of the first big wave of women entering the business world. The general advice was along the lines of to get along, go along. To fit in. To man up.

Among other things, this meant keeping your response to a bit of eye-rolling in the face of especially boorish behavior. At Wang, I was the only woman on a team dedicated to creating a strategy for the financial services industry. I was sitting, the lone woman, at the table when one team member dramatically announced that "Wall Street is a prone woman, legs spread, ready for Wang to penetrate." My response was eye-rolling - of course! - and a mild tut-tut along the lines of "Oh, Michael, stop being such a pig." But I didn't make a big fuss. After all, I was one of the guys.

In general, we were coached not to take too much of a women's approach. Not to use "weak" words like "I think" or "I feel", but to be more emphatic: "I know." Or skip the preface altogether and just flat out state "this is the way it is."

Don't ever admit that you were at fault, or that you could have done something differently. Sign of weakness! And the men will all be happy to let you take the blame. Here's where the guys really like the passive voice: "it happened" (not "I did it").

And, of course, if you were a "professional woman", you were expected to dress the part. I.e., like a man. (Women in clerical positions were encouraged/expected to dress like sexpots, however.) So most women, at a certain point in time, dressed more of less like men. (Only our menswear suits had skirts, not pants.)

During the days I was in workplace drag, I certainly didn't look like this. My hear wasn't curly. I wasn't a supermodel. No one (except the "clericals") wore perfume to work. And I sure didn't have a royal blue phone. But that floppy bow, that white shirt, that suit sure as hell could have been mine. Except for the pocket. Unless it was after I went to the tailor to have them added in, because women's suits sure didn't come with them.

On the one hand, some of the menswear suits I had were gorgeous. I had one near-black charcoal with a hot pink window-pane plaid. Another medium blue suit had a subtle fuchsia and teal stripe. (Sounds awful, but the fabric was beautiful.) I had a lovely taupe suit with an Eisenhower jacket that I wore with a teal silk blouse with a built-in bowtie. I had a cute little purple and black checked suit, that sounds Pinky Lee-ish but was quite nice. (Our suits might have been what I called "penis envy" in design, but we did have a bit of color leeway.)

On the other hand, the style of our suits was generally pretty clunky. And none of the skirts came with pockets.

Now, back in the day, I paid a ton of money for my suits. My cheaper suits I got at Brooks Brothers or Jos. Banks. They weren't cheap by any standards, but they were cheaper than the "Friedman of Boston" suits I had in my closet. (I'm not sure if that's the right name, as I can't find any reference to them on Google.) They were beautiful made, wore like iron, and traveled perfectly. Was I really paying $400-500 dollars for a suit in the mid-1980's? Yes, I was.

And none of them came with a pocket in the damned skirt.

Anyway, one of the best classes that I took during my career was on presentation skills. It had excellent tips that I always followed when giving presentations - and I gave a ton of presentations over the course of my work life. But one of the most critical takeaways from this course was the suggestion that women have pockets put in their skirts, as putting your hand in a pocket makes for a natural pose and keeps you from waving your hands all over the place.

Off to the tailor I went, with armfuls of skirts to be altered.

Soon enough, the day of the menswear suit came to an end. There was more freedom to wear separates, or a dress and a jacket. Pantsuits replaced skirt suits. (And most suit pants did have pockets.) And the tech world I inhabited went full-on casual. Dress up only when seeing clients.  

For a while, I hung on to my suits, pairing the skirts with sweaters, and wearing the jackets with slacks (or, on weekends, with jeans). But my power suit days were over, and soon enough those suits all ended up in the donation bin.

Fast forward, and the lack of pockets in women's clothing is still something of a problem. Most of my pants, which are mostly jeans, sweats, and khakis, come with pockets. But not all. (Eileen Fisher, can you hear me calling?)

And I guess it's the same for clothing for little girls, too. And one little girl's not having any of it.

Kamryn Gardner wanted a way to keep her hands warm and have a convenient place to stash small toys and natural treasures like interesting rocks.

Now the 7-year-old from Bentonville, Ark., is getting local and nationwide attention for convincing clothing retailer Old Navy to consider her request to stop making girls’ jeans with pockets that are sewn shut.

“They were fake pockets,” said Kamryn. “It bothered me that they weren’t real pockets.” (Source: WaPo)

So Kamryn wrote Old Navy a letter.

“I wrote to them because I would like a place to put my hands and a place to hold my stuff,” said Kamryn, a first-grader at Evening Star Elementary. “I want my pants to have real pockets like my brother’s pants.”

Kamryn heard back from Old Navy - seriously, who could resist this kid? - thanking her for her advice, and sending here a few pairs of pants and shorts with pockets.

Old Navy already had some styles of pocketed pants for girls, but they told her they would keep her feedback in mind when they're coming up with new products.

Good for Kamryn!

Although I had written plenty of customer complaint letters in my day - including one to Cracker Jack about too few peanuts in the mix (they sent me a carton of Cracker Jack boxes) - it never would have occurred to me to write to Brooks Brothers or Friedman (?) of Boston to ask them to start putting pockets in their skirt suits.

Just going along/getting along, I guess.

Anyway, Kamryn Gardner has spoken up! You go, girl!