The Clothes Maketh the Man (or Lady)

This is something that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about lately- it’s kind of an example of a bigger topic that’s quite important to me, but I’ll ramble on about that some other time.

On New Years Eve I went to a party at my friend’s house, I wore a lovely, floaty, peach coloured dress. I’d bought the dress over a year before and only worn it once, I loved it and had been looking for an excuse to wear it again.

I spent the whole evening wishing I’d worn something different- not because it didn’t fit the dress code, or because it didn’t fit me any more- but because it wasn’t me.

I felt awful and out of place and I just wanted to take it off and stand there in my underwear, I felt really false and unlike me- it was horrible. I think it was mostly the colour that put me off, it was too wishy-washy (spell check’s loving me…) and pale, I didn’t stand out at all.

It’s kind of hard for you to understand why I’m so disconcerted about this when you don’t see me and the way that I dress every day. Those of you who follow this blog may have heard me mention that I’ve been phasing the 1940s into my wardrobe, so basically the thing you’ve got to understand is that I’m used to bold, solid colours and standing out- there have only been two occasions this year when I haven’t worn bright red lipstick to school, and they were pretty serious.

 

see- told you I have a thing for the good 'ole red lippy...

see- told you I have a thing for the good ‘ole red lippy…

 

So, the lesson that I came away from the New Years debacle having learned is that how I look massively effects how I feel… and that I really don’t suit peach.

’til next time,

Wren x

 

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