It's as hot as an armpit in hell in New York this morning.
The temperature is in the 90s, as is the humidity. And it all feels a little worse because the winter's kinks haven't been worked out of air conditioning systems. Also, I'm a bit sunburnt and that exacerbates things.
Despite that, I put on a suit this morning. I had a meeting with the CEO of my key client. So I put on a suit.
I believe in dressing nicely for clients. Sure, when I'm on a shoot I dress as I want. But when I'm in an Oriental-carpeted, wood-paneled conference room with a suite of C's, I put on a suit.
It makes them comfortable.
It says you're simpatico.
In a sense it says you're listening.
About 42 years ago I learned something about the semiotics of clothing.
I was in seventh grade Latin class and our teacher was holding court. There was a dance coming up the next Friday night and Mr. Comeau told us that boys would be required to wear a sport jacket and a tie.
We found that egregious.
This was the early 70s--a jacket and tie was against our creed. We wanted to wear jeans. Clothing that everyone else wore that said we were different.
Why do we have to dress up? we protested.
Mr. Comeau answered with real wisdom.
"If you're wearing a jacket and tie, you're less likely to roll on the floor."
That's why I put on a suit this morning.
I didn't want the client to picture me rolling on the floor.