Dressing for Joy
Becoming serene.
I did not go shopping for clothes.
I went searching for serenity.
After resigning, I quietly put away the name tag that I pinned on daily.
I tucked it into a drawer along with my medals and leadership pins. One day, I will look back and smile. Right now, I need them tucked away for a while.
They will always be part of me.
But for this moment, I need to be free.
I placed the blazers and trousers in the guest room closet.
It is strange how clothing can begin to hold identity.
How certain pieces slowly become armor.
For years, I dressed for leadership.
Meetings. Expectations. Responsibility. Presence.
My leadership roles held me for a long while. Every time I wore my blazer or name tag, it was often my role that others saw first.
I think leaving is an opportunity to rediscover who I am, what I need, and what it feels like to step outside the safety of the identity I carried for so long.
And then suddenly, I was no longer reaching for those clothes.
What I needed most this week was serenity. I had spent hours searching online for something that might calm the restless energy sitting inside me. Sometimes I eat my feelings; other times, I shop.
The next day, I walked into Anthropologie. It was almost as if I was not thoughtfully choosing clothes, but trying to soothe something unsettled inside me, dresses and colorful pants quickly piling onto my arm until the salesperson laughed and asked, “Can I start you a room?”
“Of course,” I smiled.
“May I get your name?”
“Chellie, with a Ch.”
“And yours?” I asked.
“Serene.”
I laughed instantly because the truth was, I had walked into that store looking for serenity. And there she was standing right in front of me, a woman about my age with a warm smile and calming energy that immediately softened something in me.
Then she paused.
“I remember you… you have the fish necklace.”
“Yes, it means I am Christian.” she smiled. “And it has a menorah.” She held her necklace up and showed me.
“I remember you have the sister in Israel.”
I was surprised she remembered this. I had not been here in two years.
I remembered her too.
“How have you been?” she asked.
“I’m well… today I’m shopping because I’m stepping out of a leadership role I held for a long time and figuring out what comes next. I realized I needed clothes that reflected who I am becoming now, not just who I had to be for work. I think I want to dress for joy again.”
“That’s wonderful…”
Her excitement lit up her face, and I realized I wanted to move forward too.
Slowly, Serene helped me curate pieces that felt like me again.
As we talked, she shared worries about the economy changing, more people shopping online, and fewer coming into stores. The impact on jobs and the people who hold them.
When I lived in Los Angeles, I knew the names of so many salespeople, their stories, their lives. I cared about them as though they were friends of mine. After my first earthquake, I remember stopping into boutiques on Sunset Strip just to check on everyone.
I may forget a name today, and I give myself a little grace for that. But I do not forget the human being attached to the name or the way he or she made me feel.
So I listened when Serene spoke.
She asked if I would use her store code when shopping online so the location could still receive credit and support the store.
“Yes, absolutely,” I told her.
I walked out of there with too many dresses (and pants).
I walked into the store wanting to dress for joy.
By the time I arrived home, I realized I had brought home something more.
I felt serene.
When I arrived home, I went through my closet looking for items to be rehomed, something I have done for years. For every new piece I brought home, another was added to the bag to be rehomed.
Standing there sorting through clothes, I felt deeply aware of how fortunate I am.
Fortunate to have food.
Clothing.
Opportunities.
Choice.
Even the privilege to resign.
Here is my go to happy song and the most fitting I could think of for this piece. Thank you, Andy Grammer, for Joy.
Author’s Note
If this story touched something inside you, I’d be honored to hear your reflections
Whether you’ve lived through chaos, rebuilt your voice, or carried wounds no one else could see, your story matters. Sharing reminds us that we are not alone in the slow, powerful work of becoming.
If this piece resonated, I’d be grateful for a like, a comment, or a share.
With Gratitude,
Chellie 🩷
Chellie Grossman is a Certified Life Coach, Keynote Speaker, and Writer who empowers leaders to reclaim their voice, embrace their strength, and lead with authenticity and purpose.
What a great job, Chellie! As I had said, it’s about being able to move on when we outgrow things in our lives that simply don’t work for us anymore. I'm terrible at moving on -- all the way down to my own wardrobe. Letting go can be a lot more difficult than one might think, and you've got this knocked. :) Great piece as usual. - Seth ✦