Cultural Signifiers
Cultural Signifiers
Part III of Power Dressing
Empirically, I know that the answer is likely no. Sadly, no.
When I was in treatment, I made an effort to dress for each of my chemo sessions, and it was noticed. It told the medical team that I was to be taken seriously. That I retained the dignity of dressing myself. That I would be interesting, if not pleasant to look at in the sea of scrubs and hospital gowns. I received comments, compliments, and questions. I did not go unnoticed and thus untreated—and that is the scariest possibility, to be lost in the abyss.
The times when I was in surgery, in cotton gowns like uniforms forced on all of us waiting for our results, I still covered my head. I kept my silk crown on. I was determined to differentiate, and the truth was it worked, even if only as a topic of conversation.
The white coat may be the universal symbol of medical authority, but to be invited into the private office of a celebrity surgeon and possess the lexicon of recognizing his prized artifacts was a proprietary language only some of us had access to. Formal education. Elite access to the privilege of understanding art history. To worship at the altar of the collector is to nourish his ego and to move to the front of the line.
The demarcation between who was an authority and who was a subordinate was suddenly blurred. In short, a seduction was taking place, a bond was being formed. The knowledge of contemporary art, of the world's exclusive golf terrains, of market trends in the world of banking—two people confidently occupying seats of professionalism and power drew out a different part of the surgeon. The part that tickled his ego and his ambition. The part that revealed how much he wanted to be recognized for more than just a physician.
As an outsider who has traversed many cultural fields, I bring this language to every interaction on behalf of my client—whether he is a loved one who can also code-switch, or somebody less versed. I will go to bat for them, ensuring each physician will remember who he is dealing with, whether the communication occurs through the thread count of my Armani suit or my knowledge of the year the Ligon was made.
Last Wednesday, February 25th, I attended a live podcast recording called Embrace Change: A Conversation on Worth, Work, and Style with Sarah LaFleur and Katie Fogarty. Fogarty's podcast A Certain Age highlights women reinventing midlife and women who are aging out loud. LaFleur worked previously in private equity and began her design label M.M.LaFleur with the mission to help women take the work out of getting dressed and offer quality garments without designer prices.
The conversation was dynamic and rich, with Sarah discussing her travels abroad and Fogarty inquiring how clothing would impact the kind of day a professional woman would have. It was incidental that during the event I met several women who worked in healthcare, and I couldn't help but think that there is a thread between these seemingly disparate industries.
Sarah mentioned in one of her answers the effect of a doctor wearing a white coat into meetings—how it was that white coat that gave the physician authority. The surgeon did not need to wear a white coat to the meeting with and me. He had an office full of multimillion-dollar art instead. But perhaps only for those who could spot it and know what it was.
I got the distinct sense that the world of medicine had so many gatekeepers to step through before arriving at premium care. Cultural signifiers were everywhere.
I asked a question about the relationship between authenticity and costume to the two women recording the podcast, which was fortunate as there wasn't much time for Q&A. I introduced myself to both of them and bought a pair of pale blue resin earrings that I knew I would wear with that Armani jacket next time I went into a doctor's office. And I gave a quick testimonial for Katie about switching from Costume Studies to Medical Advocacy—of course not having time to step into the detailed world of that day with the surgeon.
Liza Buzytsky | Alia Advocacy | www.aliaadvocacy.com