I’m not planning on kicking the bucket anytime soon, but I already know what I’m wearing to my own funeral (hey, as a product manager, I like to think ahead): my all-time favorite t-shirt. No, it’s not Splendid, James Perse or Vince. And forget capsule collections and limited editions—besides me, only 8,697 other women on the planet have the right to wear this.
It’s my Marine Corps Marathon 2010 race shirt.
Now, I really don’t care what my loved ones decide to put on my lower half when they’re dressing me for the casket: my beloved Paige Premium Denim jeans or a sarong made from my two Hermès scarves…or perhaps they will skirt the issue and let me go commando. Again, I could care less. But above the waist? I’d better be sporting this $40 shirt as I start my journey into the afterlife. Why? Because the MCM 2010 is the one and only marathon I have ever run in my entire life. In terms of sheer pride, the accomplishment surpasses getting my master’s degree (if you’re a runner, you understand). It was during Mile 20 as I was questioning the meaning of life, my sanity and the structural soundness of my knees that I suddenly realized: “Oh God! If I don’t cross the finish line, I can’t wear THE SHIRT!” Yup, that’s one of the major Golden Rules of Running, and you’ll burn in Hell if you don’t comply. Well, that was enough of a carrot for this fashionista to start picking up the pace from the embarrassingly awkward runner’s shuffle to a semi-respectable jog.
So while some people don an expensive suit as a sartorial symbol of bad-assed-ness when approaching a tough negotiation, I will be striding confidently towards Saint Peter wearing my powerful little tee. Ooh, and on second thought, maybe I won’t be going commando after all.