Ann's Fashion Tarot, Isolation Edition: The High Priest.

Honestly I don’t know which he wore better, the daffodil/robin’s egg contrast of the tie with the shirt, or the thoughtful ownership of having said one thing one day and then announcing its opposite the next. The bookish-but-not-boring glasses, or the clear and graspable explanation of how historical data about pandemics is what’s behind decisions that might otherwise come across as irrational or excessive.

Actually I think Governor Walz wore a brick-red tie/white shirt at Friday’s briefing with the Minnesota Department of Health, but it doesn’t matter, because the guy’s style is consistent. Fresh yet classic. Seasonal, yet enduring. Compassionate, strategic, transparent, superfun pops of color.

In tarot, the High Priest is about doctrine, and a lot of what gets called doctrine is crap. Exploitive, negligent, not-helpful. But there’s a way to do it right, and you know it when you hear it, like when he says empathy is central to decision-making. And, “If I fall down, I expect to be called on it.” And, “Let’s do this in a way that others can look at and say, that’s the way out of this.”

ARTIST’S NOTE: Forgot to draw a High Priest when I made the original deck, and I can’t draw one now because I burned the remaining scraps of the 7Up carton and I cannot have nonmatching cards. But making do is all the rage right now so we are going with this.

The High Priest says, integrity becomes you.

Ann’s Fashion Tarot: The Hierophant

I don’t know how to tell you this but there’s no such thing as “no dress code.” There’s always a dress code. It’s just whether you follow the public one or the one in your head.

I got my first tattoo as protection against ending up with a boring job. I was really afraid of that. At the time, which was the mid-1990s, I was unsure about what kind of work I could get with my lit crit degree. I worried that someday I might feel desperate and apply for a soulkilling job. “Soulkilling” as in a job that would require me to wear a navy suit and nude hose. The best strategy I could come up with to insure against that was a tattoo on my ankle. I got a detail from Judy Chicago’s The Dinner Party. Superinsurance, right? What kind of businessy-business would hire a person who had this kind of transgression showing through her hose?

A few years later, even though I was safe in the nonprofit sector, everybody in every possible workplace in the world had a tattoo so I thought I should take it a little further. Just in case a bank presidency opened up and I forgot my values and applied for the job. I went to Cactus Tattoo and had my tiny Isis covered up with a large Jane Avril as she appeared on an 1893 poster by Toulouse-Lautrec, ecstatic, mid-sway, wearing a snake.

Jane Avril was a dancer at the Moulin Rouge. She was the only one allowed to wear red underwear instead of the standard requisite white. I don’t know if she ever wore a snake to work. If she did, I can’t imagine anyone said a word.

The Hierophant says write the code for what you want, then dress accordingly. Do that today. Do that right now.

The Hierophant is sponsored by Southern Minnesota’s reigning etiquette consultant Deenna Latus. Check out Deenna’s Etiquette and More page, and see if there’s anything you need, like a refresher course on how to eat soup during a business lunch or when it’s truly necessary to wear nude hose. 

Tomorrow: The Lovers.