It has been eighteen months and eight days since I scurried out of the college, grabbing only my core texts and headphones.

Despite my anxiety in the face of the pandemic, I quickly realised that working from home suited me. I revelled in it. No longer did I have to endure the tiring and tiresome commute. I did not have to dress with an eye to freezing lecture theatres and an overheated office. My productivity increased and I was actually enjoying rather than enduring my work. My students seemed to be coping well with the online arrangements. Certainly, their attendance had never been higher and engagement was excellent. The family ate healthily as I was no longer too tired to offer more than chicken nuggets and oven chips with depressing regularity. The dog’s separation anxiety was miraculously cured. I could garden, fit in an early morning walk and even managed to take up running.

Having been dreading the moment of my return, it finally dawned earlier today. As advised by various style gurus, I had left out my outfit before going to bed having deliberated for a long time in front of the wardrobe before finally deciding. Everything appeared so dated, so frumpy, so inappropriate! I had avoided the lockdown pounds but had been a victim of an overexcited hairdresser in the early days of her release back into the salon and was still bearing the scissored scars.

I quickly surmised that style had moved on while my wardrobe had remained static. Starved of inspiration when socialising or out and about, I simply did not know what to wear. The few pieces I had acquired during the pandemic seemed frivolous and inappropriate. Silver platform trainers may have looked good on Instagram but would scream against a sober September sky. My trousers were too narrow and too short. My jackets were too boxy. What had possessed me when I had purchased these items? Finally, I compromised on a black suit with a white top and trainers. This, minus the trainers, was the uniform I had slavishly worn when starting out as a young legal trainee. Where had I reached? The sartorial elegance and self-confidence I should have amassed by age 50 had somehow perished during the pandemic. While wearing black had previously empowered me, it now drained me, emphasising the dark circles below my eyes and the furrows in my forehead. I was not dressed for success. Rather, I was robed as a supplicant.

As I stepped uneasily through the entrance door to the college, deeply regretting my wardrobe choice replete with clumpy trainers, the words of Theresa May in a different context, rang in my ears: “Nothing has changed!”

But everything has changed, changed utterly. We are all altered as a result of this punishing pandemic. The question is whether we (read I) can channel that change to make work more gratifying, family life more fulfilling, the dog less anxious and myself more self-possessed and stylish, while embracing clumpy footwear.

How do you feel about returning to the office? According to the latest plan for living with Covid-19, workers in Ireland can begin returning to offices around the country on a gradual basis from September 20. Are you on the fence about returning? Have you got your first day back outfit steamed, hanging and ready to go? Are you looking forward to escaping your box room/makeshift desk/kitchen table WFH scenario? In the latest iteration of our Reader Writes series, we want to hear from you on your thoughts around returning to the office. What have you missed? What were you happy to leave behind? And how has the past 18 months changed your views on what a workplace should look and feel like? Email a 400-500 word essay and a picture to [email protected] and the digital team will select a number of entries to publish on thegloss.ie this month. We look forward to hearing from you!

Please note that we can’t enter into correspondence on each submission but if your piece is selected, we will email you back and let you know when it will be published …