I am 44 and I am a Hot Mess. Or at least that is what fashionable people would call me. For, after all, who in the world would wear a bright pink coat in London, Paris and New York, cities of dreary black and grey? Depressing people wearing depressing outfits all the same monochromatic color. Pink is not my color. But it was a well made coat and very inexpensive, and I was in college. So I blithely waded myself through the world with it.
At some point I discovered the color palette that worked for me and what types of clothes I didn’t like. I am a fall girl. Not jewel tones, not black (definitely not this, I look like a vampire with cinnamon colored hair). So I wear every shade and tone of fall. And as these are my favorite colors, I am happy. I hate floral. Geometric or plain colors are my choices. But that is my quirk. And I only wear clothes that allow me to move freely.
To the fashionable, I am a Hot Mess. I can’t put together an outfit to save my life. Probably because I don’t buy all the gadgets required to create a layered and accessorized outfit. But comfort is #1, and I hate all the fuss all the stuff people put on to create “The Look”.
I also no longer have the body for fashion. It happens. One can’t have cancer with 60 inches of scars, 8 serious illnesses, work full-time, attempt to be a mom, fail at housekeeping (but still try), blog, do the 101 chores and find a minute to exercise without waking up at 430 am. As I am a firm believer that anything before 515 am is Abuse, I am sunk. Not that this option is healthy. I just cant figure out how to fit it into a life that is drowning.
I don’t fit into boxes too well. To me, fashion is a box. What is “in” is what one “should wear”. Who says? What if I don’t like it or don’t want to? What if I DONT want to walk down a fashionable street with the “accepted” dress code? Anyone who works has a certain kind of dress code, so why would I want that to creep into my personal life? And so much of it is weird, or uncomfortable, or downright deplorable, as the example below shows. Well, some men may appreciate it, but the weird and uncomfortable definitely made me squirm with sympathy.
I like to flaunt convention. I once wore underpants as a hair “scrunchie” in college. Hey, I couldn’t find anything and my hair was a disaster. A few people figured it out. But college is a quirky place, and I got lots of laughs from the ones who knew what I was wearing. I wore my jammies to my first class. I didn’t care, I was comfortable and I got to sleep until 15 minutes before it started. Wearing clothes should be about comfort, fun and pleasure. It should not be about bowing to convention. Why are we so concerned about having a dress code for our entire life?
I do believe that clothes should reflect what we are doing. I would not wear a swimsuit to a wedding, unless it was in the invitation. I wouldn’t wear sweats to a fine arts event. But I am not going to have any industry tell me what I should be buying this year and what I need to wear in a certain section of the city. So there.
If we paid less attention to what we wear and more to how we treat and accept other people, maybe we would add something we all need: a little humbleness. And it is easy to begin to worship what we see in the mirror. A god for some.
But this is my opinion. To those who love fashion, there are worse vices. I will admire you from a distance and wonder if your feet are aching from the 4 inch heels and what you would do if a fire made you have to try to run in them. 🙂