Poured Concrete Life

Why flannel? A blog called "lilac flannel" should have some discussion about flannel. Simply put, I wear flannel shirts to work. I am a fulfillment manager for a small company that offers a home delivery meal subscription service, which loosely translates to I work in a walk-in cooler (a.k.a. giant cold humid refrigerator) and put food into coolers for about 4 hrs per shift. The other 4 hrs I load those coolers in and out of vans and box trucks for delivery. The button-down flannel (which has become one of my favorite work garments) is the easiest thing to take off when outside in the sun and layer when it's cold. There is physical demand as well - lifting sometimes as much as 50 lbs repeatedly, working on an unforgiving poured concrete slab, all seasons and weather when outside, and because I'm on the short side quite a lot of things tend to either fall on my head or way over my head and out of reach. 

So on days, I'm working in "Home Delivery" I'm in flannel, jeans, and work boots. The few days I work at the cafe owned by the same company, I'm in a chambray button-down, leggings, and waitressing shoes. Basically, I wear men's cut button-down shirts 5 days a week. 

Chambray and Flannel, uniform for a working woman

Okay. Following so far? What's the significance? What's the point?

See a year ago (that would be April 2020) I was furloughed from my job as a preschool teacher. As a preschool teacher, my wardrobe had silly hats, seasonal leggings, dinosaur dresses, school pajamas (because no grown woman is going to wear her actual pajamas to school for pajama day), business casual, and dressy yet comfortable shoes. It was cute scarves, funky earrings, and tights. You know what it wasn't - jeans, flannel button-downs - except for that one weird one I had for "wild west day". In fact, I didn't even own work jeans. Oh, I had skinny jeans, nice jean capris, and perhaps a lone bootcut that I wore for days we did large art projects. But there were no "hold up to some serious work" jeans, boots, shirts, or tops. I had to dump essentially my entire wardrobe into storage and buy functional, utilitarian clothing that didn't have to look pretty so long as it got the job done. 

Now why I made the choices I did, that's coming. But I had to face a radical shift in how I dressed and how I saw myself as a professional and, more often than I cared to admit, a feminine woman. It's hard to feel "girly" when you are covered in mud, bruises, and your hair looked like an electrocuted chinchilla. I've had to learn how to like me. 

Ah snow in upstate New York

  

My "plenty of fresh air" corner office this past January. It's okay to be jealous.