she comes in colours

Yesterday I woke up and saw a yard sale happening across the street. I got up, got dressed and went to check it out. I saw this photo floral skirt poking out from a bin and immediately handed over the change at the bottom of my purse for it. Never mind that it was too big for me, and a maxi skirt, and went completely against the idea I had in my head lately of what I want my style to be. I was thinking I should move to more "classic" pieces and maybe grow up a bit and stop being so weird. But I couldn't shake my gut reaction that said "I need that thing" when I saw this print.

Isn't that what I should go for when I'm getting dressed? My gut reaction to things? Why do I need to "grow up" with regards to my style and what does that even MEAN? I'm only 23, I have a job that gives me the same amount of money every two weeks and aside from paying my rent and putting a little away in savings I have no real responsibilities! What's grown up about that? Why not have fun and spend my money on weird things now, when I have the chance? I may still be young but I'm old enough to have learned not to give a fuck if someone gets judgy over me wearing a giant 70s maxi skirt.

Unfortunately this revelation came AFTER I spend 100 bucks at the Gap outlet. KIDDING, kinda. I still like the things I got, as grown up and neutral as they are.



It's probably overdone and cliche to say that the best way out of a style rut is to shake things up and try wearing something out of your comfort zone. But it's true! I haven't worn flared jeans since high school and even months ago I wouldn't have dreamed about getting another pair. But I gave it a try and found that I really like 'em. Same with the maxi skirt. Last night I safety-pinned the waistband to fit me and wore it with a denim jacket and sandals. I felt like a tall friggin goddess. See: this crappy iPhone pic



So maybe my style rut is over. I'm glad! I'm really excited for this summer and I want my clothing choices to reflect all the weird fun I'm gonna have.

To end off this abnormally long and disjointed post I wanna share this lil thing Arabelle ( http://catladysoul.tumblr.com/ ) wrote on her tumblr which resonated with me.

I want ridiculousness in fashion. I want ugly. I want destruction, I want imperfection, flaws, ripped seams, extra armholes, mutated glory that when people walk by me they whisper that they just don’t get it. I want to confuse you. I don’t want timelessness. I want everything, right here, right now, no regard for looking regal or rich or calm and collected. Why do I have to be classy anyway? Why do I need to impress you? When I slip on something I love I’m not doing it for you, I am doing it to feel good about myself, I am doing it to be transported into a place in my mind where I am safe and powerful and the cracks in my existence are filled with gold and diamonds and chocolate and goodness. I want to be able to change what I’m wearing mid walk — flip my jacket inside out, upside down, endless options, I want to tear apart what I’m wearing and what I represent and build back up again. I want you to have to think about what I represent, the space I take up. I want you running scared because you don’t understand and I don’t want you to. Every fucking seam of my jacket represents something you can’t have because I don’t want you to. This is mine. All mine. You can’t have it.