I didn’t realize what had just happened until I was out of the room.

I had been sitting in a small conference room with a new client. I was explaining the process for his case and laid out the type of information he could provide to support his argument.

Then, out of the blue, “You’re a very beautiful woman,” the client said. Suddenly, he had turned his face and body toward me. His eyes were locked on me. As is often the case, this comment didn’t make sense in the context of our conversation. This was not the logical next step for the discussion.

“Well, thank you,” I said, without thinking, before instinctively mentioning my fiance.

I hate that I responded that way.

In my office afterward, I felt sick to my stomach. I physically slouched. I wore a white blazer, one item of clothing that makes me feel more powerful, but his comment made me pull it tighter around me, somehow deflating its purpose. I was embarrassed and angry. I couldn’t get his face, his piercing gaze out of my head. I had just spent nearly an hour discussing his case, making clear I have the requisite capability and knowledge in this area of law. How dare he treat me like anything other than his legal counsel?

This is nowhere near the worst thing any woman has ever experienced in a professional setting. But it impacted me, just like I think those small, strange comments impact many women.

I couldn’t help but wonder if I brought on his comment, his behavior. I try to dress nicely for the office, not as formally as I would for a hearing or trial, but still put-together. I wear make-up daily, clothes that fit well, and I make sure my hair is not a mess. I had done the same that day.

After the inappropriate comment, I thought maybe I should change that. Maybe I should wear more loose-fitting clothes, skip make-up, pull my hair into a plain bun. Maybe I could make myself less susceptible to such comments.

Then I realized how much power I was giving this one man. I was thinking about letting his words, his actions, dictate what I wear on a daily basis. To me, what I wear gives me confidence, power. I was considering letting him take that away.

I decided I did not want to give him, or anyone else who commented on my appearance, that kind of power.

Perhaps more importantly, whatever I wear, I am not responsible for the thoughts or actions of others.

On a larger and more serious scale, consider the New York Times Op-Ed written by Mayim Bialik. She discussed how she’s never been considered attractive, and she actively makes efforts to “reserve” her “sexual self” for “private situations.” She dresses “modestly.” She doesn’t flirt with men “as a policy.”

In response to Ms. Bialik’s opinion piece, this Independent article discusses the problem with Ms. Bialik’s words: they promote the idea that women are responsible for what men say and what they do, even when the sexually harass and attack women. The idea is that, like I had once considered, if we dress a certain way, we can prevent inappropriate comments and actions of other people. Not only is that victim-blaming at its most blatant, but also it instills in women the notion that whether or not they are attacked or harassed correlates to how attractive they are. Throw that idea into the mix for a woman who wants to be considered desirable, and the line between flattery and harassment becomes less clear.

Even if I stopped wearing make-up, started wearing baggy clothes, I would not stop the comments, good or bad. People like my client will always be there, ready to share their thoughts on how you look. For whatever reason, they think that’s acceptable, perhaps even desired. I cannot change that. We cannot change that.

Rather than trying to dress to prevent the words and actions of others, we should simply dress to make ourselves feel powerful.