When My Winter Wardrobe Committed a Crime
A love letter to the Woman I'm Becoming
In 2024, I took my first corporate job in Canada.
I wanted to try something different. See what “corporate life” felt like over here. My quiet goal? Make it through the first week without ending up in HR for an Aussie joke gone rogue.
(For the record, I’m very polite by Aussie standards — ask anyone.)
Let me just say… corporate in Canada is a whole different species. Reserved. Diplomatic. Polished in a way that felt less like presence… and more like performance.
The Rift, Canadian Edition
If you’ve ever met an Aussie, you know — what you see is what you get. We dish it out. We cop it back. We call it banter. You build bonds where honesty isn’t offensive — it’s respected.
But in Canada? At least in Alberta? There’s this low-humming culture of suppression, especially at work.
People don’t speak their mind. They side-step. Swallow. Smile.
I found myself biting my tongue more times than I care to count. Not because I was careless — I care deeply how words land — but because I realised: There was no room for fire.
Only frost.
Dressing for the Weather…or the Room?
Work events rolled around in winter. Snow wasn’t even that bad — and if you’re warm and layered, you’re golden. The saying goes:
“There’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing.”
So what’s bad clothing, then? When you’re cold? Or when your confidence makes others uncomfortable?
For 20 years, my style has been clear: long tailored dresses, sleek coats, clean lines, and unapologetic elegance.
And yes — I wore heels in winter.
If people can skate on ice, I can walk in stilettos. Let’s not pretend otherwise.
I showed up one evening in a red floor-length number, belted coat, black heels. It wasn’t even loud. It was powerful. It was me.
And someone said:
“There’s no such thing as fashion in winter.”
I blinked.
First, I felt bad. Was I overdressed? Then I felt annoyed. Because that comment wasn’t about fashion — it was about permission.
It was a quiet reprimand.
A signal that “fitting in” meant toning down. That excellence needed wrapping. That boldness wasn’t welcome.
And that? That’s when I knew I wouldn’t last.
Identity Is Not a Costume
I left that job not long after. My business in Australia was growing. But more than that — I was done folding myself into frost just to be palatable.
Because the biggest sacrifice I was being asked to make wasn’t comfort. It was identity.
My humour. My warmth. My brilliance. My unapologetic runway energy in the middle of a snowstorm.
But this wasn’t the first time I had to fight to reclaim who I am.
If you’ve read Strategic Conversations — the bestselling book I co-authored with Chris Voss — you’ll know the story.
Chapter 14, The Courage to Burn, tells of how my identity was literally stolen — and how I had to rebuild not just my name, but my entire sense of self.
That chapter was my turning point. The 2024 winter? Was the sequel.
Fire Finds Its Climate
After that, I didn’t just leave the job — I left Alberta altogether.
I moved to a warmer part of Canada. Close to the beach. Closer to sun. And here? People seem lighter.
Maybe it’s the vitamin D. Maybe it’s the ocean breeze. Maybe it’s just the gift of being around people who are genuinely nice without the frostbite of formality.
Whatever it is — the energy feels softer, but the people feel more real.
And maybe that’s what I needed. Not just better weather — but a better climate for who I truly am.
But that comment? That moment? It reminded me of something mythic:
Mediocrity is not a season I’ll ever subscribe to.
And neither should you.
With love, fire & mythic clarity,
Monique x
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