My fashion vitae

Folding and hanging laundry brought a revelation: I don’t need a résumé. A photo of my clothing will suffice.

The closet abounds with shirts bearing logos for all but one of my employers since 1985. I counted 13. (Not 13 employers! Some appear on multiple shirts.)

My t-shirt drawer holds more swag. Seven T’s.

The coat closet has still more: a light jacket and ball cap.

And I schlepp daily to work hefting a computer backpack with an employer’s logo.

I counted four times – and found more with each tally. My life’s work summed up in cotton and polyester.

Even my current employer is represented. Five t-shirts.

The only employer absent from my fashion vitae was myself, from a period of self-employment. Yeah, that boss was crummy and cheap.

Curiously (or not), I discerned a pattern. The bigger the job, generally, the more branded swag I got – usually for free. That’s crazy, giving the free stuff to bosses. But I wear it.

I have enough branded shirts to go two weeks without washing. But would I?

A résumé never tells.