It is more than true to say that clothes are a part of my life into which much time, effort and certainly money is invested. From an early age I have been able to rationalise the purchasing of clothes to myself in more ways than I could possibly list. 

The daily ritual of getting prepared for a day’s work can involve many important decisions and many considerations before you close the door behind you to leave for a day at the office. Footwear decisions can be heavily dependent on whether or not an out of hours shift awaits you when the clock strikes six. From experience, I have learned the hard and painful way (with blisters to prove it) that sky high heels may look fantastic by day but by night as you scurry up a narrow, steep staircases on home visits or make your way through a wet mucky farmyard, comfort and practicality will win time and time again when pitted against five inch heels. 

Pretty new clothes freshly purchased from the shops are always crying out to be worn but I have also discovered that vomit, phlegm and blood tend to draw themselves to new and once-worn clothes like moths to a flame. Open-toed shoes at work pose a similar risk, as all forms of spillage have a seemingly magnetic draw to bare unprotected flesh. Dangling jewellery such as chains and earrings both serve as mobile targets for infants and toddlers alike and those who wear them are risking (their own) tears if they come to grief at the hands of a playful and enquiring child.

So as I pour time and consideration into what I wear into the office, I wonder if our patients are guilty of the same ritual. Certainly, newborns are victims of their proud and excited parents who dress up their offspring for their check-up visit to the doctor. 

Little baby girls are presented for the occasion in cute flowery pink dresses all complete with as many small finicky clasps and buttons as possible, which can only have been created to test us grown-ups in the field of patience and fine motor skills. Little boys are dressed in cute miniature outfits which come complete with the challenge of removing several layers off a squirming, wriggling and invariably crying infant. 

It’s often quipped that the fastest part of a six week check is the check itself, with the elaborate act of dressing and undressing the baby eating up way too much of the desired consultation time. I have secretly rejoiced in the past when my office phone has rung at the most perfectly timed moment in a newborn check-up, thus allowing me to feign disappointment that I would be unable to participate  in the challenge of re-dressing an infant. 

Secondary school students are a population I have unknowingly studied over time. The evolution and discovery of personality that comes with adolescent and teenage years is reflected in ‘variations’ of the local school uniform. Designed to be ‘uniform’ and by definition showing no variety amongst its wearers, this in my experience is not the case. 

It would appear that as the years students have left in school get shorter, so too does the length of the supposed standard-issue school skirt. Skirts are doctored by rolling it up at the waist or by pinning up at the hem (a skill learned in home economics classes being put to good use some would say). 

School ties are a hit or miss item it seems, and trainers trump shoes for the majority of the boys. Such is the need to stand out and not appear ‘uniform’ amongst one’s school peers, I have been asked on several occasions to pen letters stating sports shoes need to be worn on account of a verrucas or that the school skirt can be substituted with tracksuit bottoms in the event of a muscular injury.

After all my observations of clothes and outfits I have to say my favourite has to be that worn by certain elderly gentlemen who visit the practice. From top to toe they ooze a display of perfection in their appearance. From their spotless and neatly pressed shirts to their matching three-piece suit right down to their perfectly polished shoes. It is obvious that these men take time and effort preparing themselves before they leave home in the mornings. I take this as a form of a compliment; that their visit to see myself or my colleagues is met with this kind of effort. 

When I find myself browsing internet clothing websites during my lunch break or when I capitalise on a few spare minutes I find during the day, I find myself rationalising my spending by telling myself the patients appreciate the effort I put into my clothing. 

It really doesn’t matter if they get stained or if they don’t survive a busy out of hours shift. As an advocate for my patients, being well presented is just a part of the job I tell myself (and rationalise to myself), as I hover over the mouse and click on ‘add to basket!’.