"When I grow up, I want to be a Bra Fitter!"--said no girl ever. It's funny that when we're little, and theoretically care-free, the great decision of our future profession should be so front of mind. Archaeologist, Beekeeper, Cabinetmaker, Dance Instructor... you spend your girlhood looking for signs to help you winnow down the list, and when you decide, well, hopefully you find a path laid out in front of you to follow step by step and build yourself a sturdy carapace of occupational identity.

I was one of the lucky ones. Some of my friends struggled, but I found my path early. I liked pretending I was anyone but me, found it alarmingly easy to lie, liked movies and TV, so I decided to become an actor. This took me to San Francisco for a summer, New York for two years, London for four, and finally back to Los Angeles, all the while following my actor's path until it petered out in my forties. It was then I joined the ranks of the perplexed.

Once before I had felt a serious decision paralysis. I had just returned from London, having finally succeeded in becoming a working actor. I was appearing in a very successful Hollywood movie, but I was also separated from my then husband, but also wanting to have lots of children, but also not torpedo my career, and presently occupying my childhood bedroom. The pieces were not fitting together neatly.

Something that helped me at the time was an embarrassing book I found in my mother's dresser, called 'What Color is Your Parachute?" I think the cover, which I tore off before leaving the house with it, featured a cartoon of a rainbow-colored parachute. Sorry, Mom. You were done with that, right?

What I gleaned from it was just a little tweak: before you go about becoming what you want to be, just take a moment to figure out why. What is it that you think you will get from that supply chain logistics role of your dreams? You like to make things work efficiently? If you don't get that job, what's another arena where things need to work better? That sort of idea. Once you get yourself to answer the Why question, you can have the freedom to edit your path, rearrange your timeline, or go in a crazy different direction--without getting lost.

I leaned on this advice two distinct times: first at 26 when I decided to rearrange the standard schedule of husband> house> kids to: house> kids> husband [optional]. Then a second time sixteen years ago when that eventual husband suggested we open a bra store to sell bras that I could actually fit into.

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Bra Fitting isn't an exact fit for everything I like about acting, but it gets a good chunk of it. I love to work collaboratively and I love to learn people's stories. Being Jenette of Jenette Bras is a kind of a role, and I've definitely had to fake it a few times (long in the past, darling, long in the past). When a fitter takes a client into the fitting room, it's showtime in more ways than one: an improvised dialog for two, with space for comedy, tragedy, twists, and reveals. Oh, and costume changes of course. And curtains!

We have twenty-five women working for us presently. Some of them are store managers or Operational Heads but all of them were fitters and still fit when called upon. More than 150 have come and gone before them. Many started as clients. I daresay nearly all of them will always value this work experience, and I'm awestruck by the glittering range of professions they've come from and gone on to: librarians, actors, bartenders, dancers, photographers, and comics. A sommelier, a swimwear designer, a floral arranger. A casting director, a math teacher, and three who have gone on to become therapists. This is a small sample of the unique paths that had room along them for Jenette Bras, and I am thankful that they (most of them) decided to share their lives with us. No doubt there are some unrewarding days, but as one very young woman said to me after completing her six months training, "This is SO much better than working at Buffalo Wild Wings!"

Not that I don't love a good wing :)

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