So once upon a time…

I wore what I want. My mother hated my outfits, that was one of the appeals. The other appeal was in my highly diverse high school (students from over 75 countries!), which of course had strict, yet unspoken wardrobe rules for every group. I technically was in the popular, preppy clothes group. But I was one of the fringe popular kids, probably because I was friendly to anyone who sat near me in class (and I mean anyone). So I felt a little on the outside. Okay, my depression put me on the outs a lot, or so I thought. My Lyme disease definitely did, especially the 5 times I was out for two months! So to make myself happy, I wore what I want.

My favorite shirt was this horrid butterfly collar shirt, obviously from the 70s. In my mind, it was a beautiful, unique shirt. It was all in browns, but almost like a calico. The background was milk chocolate, with tiny flower sprigs all over. I wore this in both my sophmore and junior year photos (94′ and 95′), that’s how much I wore the shirt! I always wore a white t-shirt underneath, with my silver and handmade glass necklace. And on most days I would wear my jeans (which for that era were rather tight, they actually fit me properly), but on special days I would wear it with my milk chocolate brown corduroy pants. And always, because I get cold*, my black cardigan, from the Gap.
* When I get cold it is bad news because I start hurting all over, joints, muscles, ugh. I hate it when people ignore me at work when I say to please not turn down the heat, I react very painfully to colder temperatures… *sighs*)

Ratty 70’s California shirt, Cargo skirt, Stan Smiths.

But anyway. After this phase of 70s wonderfulness, I still wore my cords and my black Gap cardigan. This was my outfit at art school. Some old t-shirt, cords, cardigan, and Chucks. Then I graduate to cardigans and coats from the Salvation Army. The brighter color sweater the better. Cleveland is cold and miserable in the winter. I had to leave after the two semesters (mental and physical illness), and it was summer in hot muggy New Jersey. I chopped off all my hair. I had an old cargo miniskirt from the Gap, that I had bought in high school. By this time it was mainstream to wear cargo gear (though the hardcore/punk scene always had it down). I still liked to thrift, but I felt like I had lost my identity by having to come back home, not fulfilling my BFA wishes. And for the next year, my clothing reflected it. I was a mishmash of unflattering gear. Cast-offs, ratty stuff, expensive stuff, I was the precursor to Mary Kate and Ashley Olson. Except sloppier. I was trying to hide. I was embarrassed I couldn’t be in school. I tried some art classes at the local county college, it was so painful and depressing. And I really just wanted to make myself as ugly as I felt.

After I got used to the disappointment of being home, I re-entered the world of the hardcore/punk scene. I liked tight plaid pants with a wifebeater. I am 5′11″ and have always been grossly thin, so I thought I was hot shit. I was feeling pretty good about this look. I think I was a super cute little hardcore/punk girl.

And Mike, my husband, thought so too! Apparently he had noticed me the spring of 99′, though we didn’t formally meet until December of ‘99. By this time I had moved out of my parents and really liked not being hassled about my outfits. But when I met him, something in me changed, and I went back basics. I knew he could see right through my cute little outfits. I grew out my hair. I went to Rutgers. I blended in. Life was stressful now, but in the best way possible. I had no time to plan clothes.

After I graduated and started working, I had to adhere to casual business standards. I tried to enter the new romantic look (or is that new-new romantic? LOL). But I kept it plain, basic. Just a little ruffle here or there. Maybe a small puff at the sleevecap. Then I had a huge mental breakdown this September. Nothing mattered.

I have been on disability since then. Most days I wear sweatpants. But today I realized, that when I feel good, I pay more attention to what makes me happy to wear. I love my new Keds, they have Killer Whales printed on them. I love the new shirtdresses they have, I wear them over jeans. I love deep-V sweater necklines. I like the idea of leggings, but I don’t partake. If I had I little girl, I would buy her all the colorful printed ones I could find. I like wearing my turtleneck shrug that I made out of Kureyon (gauge adjustment out the wazoo!), especially today over my light grey deep-V sweater. I had my passport photo taken today.

Clothing conformity. It is suuuuch a part of our American culture. Throwing it away out of my mind makes me feel free, feel better. My sister said that I was “layered really weird today.” I said “I know, thank you!” And I felt good.