0010
A few weeks back someone asked me Oh, so you write? When I nodded, this someone nodded in return and said That explains your clothes. My hair was a rat’s nest and I had on my long multifabriced tier skirt and a tank top. Arms full of bracelets and probably boots on underneath. It’s cool when someone gets it, even if they don’t really get it. I try to dress like I am living out of my head. Places and times that don’t exist and all that.
I’m strange here, but really, it’s okay.
My fashion sense goes through these huge upheavals from time to time, usually depending on what I want to manifest in my life or what sort of story I am working on. I have a pair of goggles I wear often, no matter what they match or not, because they were made to my specifications and I love the more than any accessory in the world.
I wear them for my characters in Cartography, though I don’t know why for. Shielding their eyes from the dust and particles and making traveling between the desolate cities of the post-apoc world a little easier, I suppose. Same with the long skirts and the boots and tank tops. The jewelry is both wood and metal. Finding a happy medium between them. It has been alright for the past year, really. I’ve gotten the layers down. They all fit together so well.
But lately, I’ve been just a twinge unhappy. A twinge elsewhere. Like my heart that is out of the dull city scapes and constant black-on-black, I’ve found myself leaning more towards the neutrals. Tan tank tops, brown boots. Dark mahogany purses. Bleached out bark colored medical bags. Black and white is wonderful. I love it. I love grey.
But, sometimes I hide in my bedroom and stalk Mori Girl and obsess over things like this:
Now really, maybe not too straying too far from the bits of clothing I’ve been putting together lately, but a far cry from the black on black on grey on white on black outfits I’m used to wearing.
It echos sand and dust and when done up nicely, some part of me knows it’ll fit my aesthetic just right. Patched up clothing made at home, willowy skirts, sheer layers. Dirt it up here and there, put goggles on, a backpack and the end-of-the-world is right in your backyard.
Tell me, can’t you just see it? Take from here and take from there and that’s how you get personal style, isn’t it? A dazzling mix of what’s inside poured right out. Night sky black and pure foam white here and there, grey for rainy days in between. But, I’m feeling it’s time for a change. Maybe some way to embrace it all?
Maybe I’ve got a 80′s cyberpunk kid’s heart, but a datagypsy’s post-apoc soul?
Well, we’ll see how it goes.
There are 2 Comments to "0010"
I have completely lost personal style. Now I just put on clothes so I wont be naked. My clothing does not represent who I am at all. I don’t know when that happened, I used to be all about personal style. Now I don’t care. I kind of miss it in a way, I would love to reflect who I am on the inside by what I wear on the outside. But it’s so much easier to shock people when they judge you by how you’re dressed and then you read them something you’ve written or tell them something like “I’m Wiccan” and their faces drop. Sometimes I like to not care what I’m wearing because it defeats so many stereotypes. People expect me to be wearing black gothic dresses and face paint.
Lorelle´s last blog ..Things I Love Saturday
I dunno, maybe you dress to shock or you dressed to shock, but I never did. I don’t really go about my day and my life trying to shock people. Clothing and style, to me, are about personality and comfort. Trying to be the best possible, the best feeling me at all times. I dunno, but maybe it stems from me not really caring how people view my religion/spirituality, or even sometimes how they see my work. All that matters to me is to make myself happy :)
If you’re happy, then, you know, that’s really all that counts!