On the evolution of style, pt. deux

Somewhere in the middle of college I went through a "it's cool to look low maintenance" phase. Looking back this was the biggest blot on my reputation as a person of taste. Talk about dampening my style and softening all my edges. Ugh.

Here's the thing. I didn't want to seem into my looks. That kind of vanity was beneath a serious artist like myself. I was going for some kind of "natural, effortless" thing.

Of course, I really really worked hard at it. At some point I just stopped getting my hair cut and let it grow like a not really curly, not really straight weed. My clothing style incorporated a vacillation between androgynous and anything with a flower print. Most notably, everything I wore was baggy in a misguided attempt to look thin (as evidenced by the lovely people who insist on putting pictures of me on facebook, really, must you???).

I strategically applied makeup to look like I wasn't wearing any. I was way before my time with the "no makeup makeup" look. Yeah, I saved the big makeup guns for the stage where I over-applied like a champ.

The weird, depressive narcissist that I wasted my last semester on, broke up with me the day before my graduation. Nice. So in all of my pictures I look like a sad, chubby, mountain of blonde hair in a baggy, flower print dress.

I went back to my parents' house and cried for four days straight. When I finally looked in the mirror, I was horrified by what I had become. So far from my former, sparkling glory (and when I say sparkling, I do mean that literally. There were lots of sparkles).

The very next day I started doing step aerobics, got my hair cut off and bought clothes in a style I had never owned before (thank you Nordstrom Jrs). I kissed that boring sad sack goodbye and never looked back (again, the facebook thing, not helpful).

When my ex attempted a re-entry into my life, I stared at him through my brand new eyes that donned a color that practically screamed "I'm wearing makeup" and had the confidence to act like I barely remembered who he was.

There are no do overs. Only onward and upward.

With better hair and better style.

On the evolution of style (ok, my style)

I feel as though I haven't reached the pinnacle of my own personal style. Just like most therapists I've come from my own fucked up shit and now I think I have learned just enough to help others. However, I am still working on myself.

My goal is to bookend my life with great individual style.

My fashion sense was quite adventurous when I was a kid. From awareness until about 6th grade I was really creative with my clothing choices. Then all that insecure, "I want boys to like me, I should be more normal/skinny" stuff happened and created a big, fat grey area in my fashion history.

My favorite stuff pre-premature puberty (which really ruined everything) was any skirt or dress that was layered like a cake, anything that twirled, had sparkles, resembled a princess or someone from a bygone era. My idea of "vintage" was the pilgrim outfit and I wore it to school faithfully every year for Thanksgiving until it no longer fit and even then I think I wore the hat long after.

I sported cardboard wings with glitter (stolen from Kim's girl scout ceremony), party hats, bright green gauchos, wands, and blue courdory pants with lions' heads. I reached fashion nirvana when Kim started taking ice skating lessons. Those ice skating costume designers really know how to do it. I strongly felt they were more appropriate as street wear. I actually started taking lessons myself for the clothes. Imagine my extreme disappointment when in my first show we were fucking lightbulbs (horrible look) and in my second show we were stupid, ugly railroad workers. I was a girly girl. I did not appreciate masculine style at the time. I quit after that disaster and just waited for Kim to be done with the blue gingham, tulle number with the red sequin trim and shiny red butt bow.

Dreamy.