herve leroux If the Devil Wears Prada, Can a Rocke

Anyone who laughed through this summer's hit movie, "The Devil Wears Prada," knows that clothes can, indeed, the woman make. If Andy Sachs' transformation from journalist neophyte into couture fashionista was not enough, surely the svelte fiftysomething profile of Miranda Priestly (played by Meryl Streep) along with her perfectly coiffed white hair, beautifully-shaped eyebrows and colored matching stockings got your attention.Throughout the movie, I found myself asking questions about appropriateness. For while Andy's cheap, mass-produced sweaters from the Gap were certainly appropriate for her college years,herve leroux, they seemed grossly out of order in her new role at the fashion magazine empire which employed her. Far more appropriate were her Aubrey-Hepburn-style hat and swing coat ensembles, knee-length Prada boots and Chanel skirts; the fact that they were borrowed from the excess stash made no difference. She needed them to look right in her job. Fashion was her job. (Well, sort of.)Women have always had an interest in fashion. For good or for bad, we're judged (by men and by other women) by our looks and by our fashion sense. And let's face it: we've been playing the dress-up game since toddlerhood.That said, the question of appropriateness remains. Would Andy's wardrobe be appropriate if she held the position of elementary school teacher? Of landscape designer? Nuclear physicist?Now that I'm back in the ranks of corporate America, I am ever-conscious of the way in which fellow working women dress for the workforce. Frankly, I am shocked by how casual my colleagues have become. Almost gone are perfectly matching jacket-and-skirt suits, closed-toe pumps and buttoned blouses. Shoulders, cleavage and toes are de rigueur and have received more exposure (no pun intended) than ever. (I was, frankly, shocked, to see three women legal analysts on Fox News espouse commentary with breasts falling out of tank tops; I can hardly find a women in my office building with covered shoulders; toes...and painted toenails...are definitely in the "no worries" zone. Personally, I find it yucky even thinking about my manager knowing what my toes look like.)So what's the story? I mean, if the devil wears Prada, can a Rocket Mom wear Jimmy Choo's? Can she--no, should she--wear Kate Spade to pick up the kids from the bus-stop, Ralph to the grocery store and Lilly for supper on the terrace? Can a Rocket Mom facing four college tuitions allow herself the indulgence of thousand-dollar Manolo's?!?As you swim through the ebb and flows of the cycles of motherhood, consider the role of fashion in your everyday workaday world. At-home moms with baby burble on their shoulders look ridiculous in silk; anyone would think you had lost your marbles in the grand push of childbirth if you even attempted the combination. And yet older moms sharing Abercrombie with their pre-pubescent daughters deal with the ridiculous factor in yet another way. Should fifty-year-old moms (with badge-of-motherhood poochy-bellies to prove it) really be squeezing into low-rise bell-bottoms? Should the start of menopause be the start of more serious wardrobe expenditures and serious attention to personal hygiene? (I watched "Extreme Makeover" this weekend. Words cannot describe...) Or is that the time (for crying out loud!?!) to say enough obsessing already!!!As you move on with your week, standing as I know you do in front of your clothes inside your closet, staring hazily at clothing both old and brand-new, with that "What do I wear today?" look on your face (will this make me look too fat,������ �����`��, this make me look too pale, this make my butt look too wide...) ask yourself what will make you look the most appropriate...and move forward with the assurance that hey, if you could get through all of the trials and tribulations of motherhood, you can figure out a few ensembles to get you through these next seven days.