Dropping the Bar

The weekend hardly seemed to have existed, as I withered away in 18 hours of continuing legal education (CLE) lectures, hosted at the same center where I took my bar exam prep course. (Passing the bar is only one of several hurdles to maintaining that sacred law license.) My insides felt like crushed tomatoes as I entered the classroom and flashed back to my summer and the endless sample questions, monotonous lectures, and anxiety ridden existence of a law school grad who must surmount the bar exam. But the mood was unmistakably lighter as I found a seat next to a few friendly faces, since we were all there because we had in fact successfully tackled the bar.

Granted it was the weekend, and registration began at the unholy hour of 8:30 am, but I was still astounded to see the vast array of fashion follies littered throughout the room of new professionals. Given that the lecturers were veteran lawyers in all areas of practice from around the country, one might consider looking as if they made it to the shower, and turned on a light when dressing to ensure that they didn't grab their sorority t-shirt instead of a fitted sweater. Aside from the many neophytes dressed as if they were headed to the college dining hall after a big night out, there were some that actually made an effort to get dressed, which I appreciated, though it was terribly misguided.

One woman I couldn't stop staring at appeared to be in her early 30's, and a size 12 (though I am admittedly bad at guessing sizes). She had a tight, short, denim mini skirt with a flowing, sheer, teal top that could have been from Contempo Casual (where Alicia Silverstone as Cher in the 90's hit Clueless shopped), paired with black, leather, military issued mid-calf boots, which made her legs look like ham hocks. I'm not sure which element of the ensemble was most mystifying, but the overall effect was one part befuddlement, one part putrid. Another young man about my age, who chose to sit front and center, sported obvious bed head (and not in the chic way Nate Archibald does it), a dandruff flaked, black, ripped long sleeve t-shirt, and a down coat circa 1995 complete with white flecks of feathers escaping from the seams. Hopefully he wasn't seeking employment guidance from any of the guest speakers.

On a brighter note, my friend Liz was perfectly dressed for the occasion, in a cream sweater, slim pants, boots, and topped off with her new Chanel bag (a law school graduation gift). Though she already has a job, I'd hire her even if she wasn't my friend.