Anyone else out in the blogosphere nodding with me right now?
This is my truth.
I feel underdressed or incomplete without some form of accessory to compliment my clothing.
Referring to the full range of “clothing”. I even put stud earrings on to hit the beach. Several bracelets adorn each wrist and don’t come off and I just added a string anklet to the mix.
I cannot fathom not wearing or wanting to wear jewelry, or to switch it out, or to not care at all. I find no fault in people who don’t care for my fashion neuroticism but I truly don’t get it. You see for me an outfit is AN OUTFIT. Undergarments (or not), clothing, shoes, bag, possibly a belt, and definitely jewelry. Reinforced by hair and makeup. I am curating an entire look.
Like lots of my other attributes, I am going to blame this on my mother. For as long as I can recall, even when we were broke, my mom found creative ways to always look on point. Her entire outfit may have been from yard sale piles but she intuitively knew how to coordinate and look well put together. She gifted those skills to me. That means we mixed and matched unabashedly. Designer married to Kmart. Real right next to costume. And yes, white after Labor Day. We would play and dabble and collect and swap and switch. Never bored. I continue this small legacy with her in mind.
I love that I have shared my joy of fashion with my daughter. She has curated her own looks from the age of 3, when she demanded adorning a tiara with every outfit. I love to see her play and combine costumes and clothing to fit whatever theme she’s imagined. I love that she is not afraid to proudly show just who she is. No shame. No fear. No care for the opinion of others. She does exactly what makes her happy.
I don’t mind my fashion fiendish behaviors. I embrace and celebrate my skills as part of who I am. I bask in the attention people pay me over a piece of my outfit or the entire look. I appreciate my focus on the chic. It reminds me, always that I am my mother’s daughter. Even when everyone but me hates my look, I don’t care. My opinion is the only one that truly matters.
Mr. Reinvention mostly appreciates my fashion fetish, though he himself prefers more of a classic look. I can recall some occasions where his frustration has mounted over my fashion crises. Outfits piled high on the bed. A trail of shoes lying throughout the house. A style war zone. I hate to admit, but there may have even been some tears a time or two.
Then, there have been times of fashion faux pas. Where a shoe has broken or a piece of jewelry lost. I have purchased new shoes while out or managed barefoot. I have attached stolen pencil erasers to earrings as backs. Once I survived a full on Janet Jackson moment at a crowded water park.
My friends playfully tease that I am the only one who could and would buy and wear some of my crazy garb. But I love that! I love being quirky and on trend. Or better yet ahead of the trend!
I am not ashamed to say, I have sacrificed comfort and function for the sake of feeling en vogue. I wore 4 inch heels into my 7 month of pregnancy! Though 10 years later most of those beauties have retired.
I may be slightly more sensible now but I still have a passion for couture. I love feeling beautifully me. Draped in my creative threads.
Successful execution of a look boosts my confidence! I walk taller and embody the bad ass bitch that I am.
I am Melissa, fashion whore and I feel naked without my earrings. The first step is admitting, right?
What are your attitudes about fashion and trends? Are you a form and function gal or glitz, glam and wow lady? Do you think it’s possible to have both?