This is going to be one of those posts, my bloggie buddies. The kind that are too long, too ramble-y, and too "what is this even about"-y. But its something that has been on my mind lately, and I'm trying to write again, right? Ok. You've been warned.
Now I go to the skirt story.
Somewhere out there friends, there is a magical skirt, designed by a magical fashion genius (named Alexander Grecco), with a magically expensive price tag on it. My sister was fortunate enough to find a reasonably priced one in her size, and bought it.
Goodness, I was elated for her. And yet so jealous of her! Tulle all over, poofy in all the right ways, and delicacy everywhere. Oh to have such a lovely skirt!
Every day I would telephone Melody and ask her if she had worn her sweet skirt. And each day she'd reply with a guilty tone that "no," she hadn't, and "someday soon" she certainly planned to. After weeks of not wearing the skirt, I finally questioned her reasoning. "Why, why whyyyy would you not wear such a skirt, and at every opportunity that came? "
Her answers were simple: She was shy. She felt like it was too ostentatious to wear on a regular day. She thought people would think she was weird; like she was trying too hard.
I thought about it, and understood immediately. There are several pieces of clothing in my closet that I adore, but I've yet to wear them in public. I have a sweet yellow polka dot dress, but haven't worn it, because I feel like it's too girly; and people will think that I aspire to be one of the VonTrapp Family Singers. I have a flowing top that I'm in love with, but have yet to wear it, because I'm worried people will think that I'm pretentious and trying to look like I spend all my time at stuffy modern art museums. I could go on- there are plenty of dresses, tops and more that I could wear, but choose not to. "Not yet, at least." As though I'm going to eventually mature into the clothing that I've chosen to purchase for myself. I'm sure if I owned the fabulous Grecco skirt, I'd be just as apprehensive to wear it as my sister is.
This got me to thinking about what I think about people who are different. And by different, I mean fearless. The people who wear whatever they want, even if it is waaayy out of the norm. They remind me of budding toddler fashionistas; completely un-concerned about what people are going to think of their selected outfit. Except they're adults.
Goodness, I love those people.
Now, keep in mind I'm not necessarily talking about weirdness for the sake of weirdness (aka "indie" or "hipster"). There is something significantly less heroic about someone who is intentionally different because they've been swept up by a wave of popularity. If you don't know why you like something, you may want to investigate it a little more.
I'm talking about people who choose to express themselves in a unique way because they are actively embracing their individuality. Its as if they feel they have nothing to prove to others. Do you know the type friends? I can think of a handful just on the top of my head. Fearless expressionists are the best. They are comfortable with themselves. Able to be passionate about what excites them. And is it just me, or have you noticed these people tend to be less judgmental of others' individual expression as well?
I know this seems like a lot that I got from my sister's tulle skirt.
My point is, (if there is a point) that we need more people who are different. More people who are brave, and confident enough with themselves to wear things that may cause double takes every now and then. We need more whimsical. More quirky. More feminine. (I suppose those are just my particular favorites...)
If we choose to be brave in one department in our lives (even one as seemingly superficial as wardrobe selection), I believe it perhaps inspires us to be braver in other ways. More significant ways. Maybe, in a small way, what you choose to wear can change who you are for the better (or worse, of course).
Anyway, Melody finally wore the skirt. Got a million compliments from people she knew, as well as people she'd never met. In fact, Melody's photographer neighbor approached her and asked if she'd be willing to wear the skirt in an upcoming photo-shoot. Talk about a wave of confidence washing over her. Not only in the decision to wear the skirt, but in her taste, her specific, unique fashion instincts. Melody sent me a picture of her wearing the tulle skirt at DisneyWorld (with Mimi in a pink tulle dress next to her). I beg her for more pictures of her wearing it. Mimi asks her to wear it every day now. She tries to find reasons to wear it, rather than find excuses not to.
Told you it was a magical skirt.
I'm thinking I'll wear my polka dot dress tomorrow.
Maybe, rather than looking like a VonTrapp Family Singer, I'll just look like myself.
Goodnight, sweet friends.
Thanks for reading the skirt story.