If you're going to be a stickler about it, I'm not really re-entering the work force. For the past 21 years, I've been a freelance advertising/marketing writer, and for the past 10, a weekly humor columnist in one newspaper or another. But what I am doing this week is re-entering the work force where you have to wear clothes that match, closed-toe shoes and makeup.

Ordinarily, the Janet's World business day works like this: I get up about 5:30 a.m. and put on a workout outfit I have purchased in the men's department of an athletic store. This is because the men's department sells functional athletic gear with pockets for your keys at a much more reasonable price than the women's department. After I walk my dog, I might shower, or I might just sit down to work in my sweaty athletic gear. No one will complain because no one is around, except my dog, and frankly, he always smells worse than I do.

When I finally do take a break to shower, I usually change into my work uniform of jeans and some kind of T-shirt. All I can say is, thank goodness none of my clients want to Skype me.

But I recently landed a job at the Johns Hopkins University, and I am going to have to change my ways. Now I will be commuting to a facility where I will be performing high-risk heart and lung transplants. Only one part of that statement is true, and I'm certain you savvy readers can identify it.

Actually, I was very excited to get the position in the marketing department of one of the university's divisions, but I will not regale you with my new title because that is unimportant. What is important is that I suddenly needed to shop for clothes.

My closet could be a Smithsonian exhibit titled "Homage to the 1980s." I've amassed a lot of boxy jackets, sensible pumps and tailored skirts. If you stand to the side and look at the hemlines, they jump up and down like an erratic reading on a heart monitor, such as one might see when operating on a high-risk heart-and-lung transplant patient.

It was clear I needed emergency help.

But I had less than a week between the offer and the start date, so I had to rely on my fashion-bumbling self. I found an hour between projects and rushed to the local mall, where I would ordinarily be overwhelmed by the choices and come home with nothing but sore feet from wearing closed-toe shoes. This time, however, I made a list. I had read in a magazine about the importance of purchasing basic pieces one could mix and match effortlessly into countless combinations. I decided I would purchase a black skirt and a white blouse to start, and then I would add some colorful pieces to that palette.

This was easy, until I started to look for the other pieces. There's a lot of stuff out there that shows more than I'm willing to share. What happened to conservative business attire? In the 1980s, I dressed like a man in gray and tweedy suits so I wouldn't be judged on anything but my job performance. But now it seems that I could project the persona of an exotic dancer at work more easily than that of a professional woman.

The saleswoman noticed my aimless fashion grazing and offered assistance. She showed me coral tank tops and seersucker jackets and these new shirred floral tops. I got a headache, so I thanked her for her time and made a fast break.

So, with my white blouse and black skirt, I will be re-entering the work force this week pretty much dressed as a former nun, and that's OK — even curiously appropriate. Because I'll be praying it all works out.