So, when I got married I pledged a little alliance to myself: Dress grown-up, dress appropriately for your age (some twenty-something) and don’t dress like your teenage self.
|Band Tee - Denim Cut offs - Converse - Happiness.|
I remember the final visit to church before we married - I especially wore my most grown-up skirt in my wardrobe (Elle), and demure white blouse. I wanted to make a good impression, God, I needed to.
Clothing has a way of being able to tell a story, project an impression and above all define someone. I’m not saying it’s a dead certain deal breaker, but as a woman who has had many closet fall outs, and far too many impulse purchases, I think I might have got this one sussed. Or so I like to convince myself.
Basically, for around three weeks into 'Mrs' territory, I dressed in my most refined M&S, Zara and the like. It felt sophisticated, especially this day… about to embark on a (very grown-up) wine tour in Hawkes Bay, NZ.
I even gave away half my suitcase before we returned home last year. I had finally shaken off the insecurities around clothing and started buying and dressing differently.
And then I went to Thailand, and all hell let loose in my suitcase. I opted to dress exactly as desired, often a miss-match of my favourite clothes all at once. I braved sportswear, oriental inspired kaftans and swimwear all at once – and darn I wasn’t even at the beach some days! But, you know what it felt good, ridiculously good.
I once had a friend who would come to college (usually in the depths of UK winter), in flip flops and a bikini, of course her bikini was covered up – but the principal behind it was mind boggling at the time. But, she was passionate about wearing her heart on her sleeve, and I look back at her now and think that’s probably where I get my love for bikinis and other beautiful swimwear from.
When we went to Southend-on-Sea over the August Bank Holiday, I could feel myself ridiculously excited to dress exactly as I desired. I wore a pair of denim shorts, my favourite band t-shirt (Fleetwood Mac) and my newly acquired blue converse. Yes, Converse!
I didn’t think I would ever see myself (not Mrs Taylor) in Converse again. Probably because the last time I wore Converse I was sixteen years old, and covered in black eye liner and Billy Joe Armstrong was my idol.
But, the best part of it is, I thoroughly enjoyed wearing my Converse. I guess, it’s time to embrace what makes me happy – and loosen those rules (okay blatantly, lets just forget them).
Because, if I’m still rockin’ Converse at 90, then I think that would be pretty cool.
Plus, from one Taylor (Chuck) to another, it’s a pretty fine thing.