The night before the commencement of the OLIP program was a content one. Having had an enjoyable summer and read extensively about Ontario government and politics, I felt quite poised to take on this new and exciting chapter of my life. In the morning however, that poise gave way to dread when a quick survey of my wardrobe revealed that it was decidedly more un-parliamentary than I thought. My life as a student and work as a swim teacher had left me with an impressive collection of swimsuits, jogging pants, jeans, t-shirts and little else. One of my two dress shirts was too snug while the other one was nowhere to be found. Ten minutes and one ransacked closet later, it dawned on me that it was probably still sitting at the dry cleaner where I had dropped it off in July! With only an hour and a half before the meeting and not a shirt to be found, I made a dash for the cleaners on my bike. As I peddled furiously down Bloor Street and precious minutes slipped away, panic set in as I pondered: Would I be late for the meeting? Would I be forced to show up at Queen’s Park looking like something the cat dragged in? Would I get the disapproving eye all day? I started to see visions of myself showing up for my first day of the job in my summer uniform of faded jeans and cotton t-shirt only to greet a group of neat and studious looking interns dressed in starched dress shirts and sparkling spectacles. With only 45 minutes left before the meeting, I entered the dry cleaners with fingers crossed and a pounding heart and nearly jumped for joy when the owner emerged with one crisp button-down dress shirt in hand. A short while later I appeared for my first day at Queen’s Park calm, collected and wearing an outfit fit for the Provincial Parliament. Needless to say, a look in my closet today will turn up an endless collection of button down dress shirts.