I do not think that I am going to dye my hair blue again. Because it isn't part of who I am anymore, except that 'who I am' is someone who dyed her hair blue consistently from 19 to 30 years old. It was meaningful to me at the time. It's different now. And I don't know how to explain it, or why it is, but it would feel like a fun thing I was doing, a quirk, when it used to be a sacrament. It would feel like an attempt to stop myself from changing, because change is uncomfortable and scary. And that demeans it, somehow. I might go red or purple, but I am retiring blue.
I have been thinking about presentation, and identity, and age. I am wearing a bright fuchsia satin-brocade skirt and a day-glo lime green shirt and glittery pink Chucks. And I feel, a little, as if I have become ridiculous, because at 32 years old I still dress like I did when I was acting out in high school. As if I am trying too hard. As if I ought to act my age. And at the same time, I feel, a little, as if I am becoming boring, suburban, someone whose stories are always about what she used to do, how crazy she was. I am so sober these days.
And I know that the answer is, stop worrying about what other people think. About should instead of want. I love my fuchsia skirt. And I love my life. And I can make stories in the present. But knowing doesn't stop the worry. Change is hard and scary.
3 comments:
I tell my daughters: Fashion is a language we use to tell other people what kind of person we think we are. But sometimes we change without our wardrobe noticing. It can be hard to work out who we are now (or at least who we want other people to think we are) and what that means for what the heck we should look like.
Andrea! You are here! Yes, it's a funny game, trying to be a Grown Up, and trying to be Young at the same time, and it's visibly playing out in my appearance. I went to Joann's for sensible things and left with fringe and glitter instead. And then I was embarrassed.
I am here. ^_^
I fight that same war, though for me it plays out as "look young and cool for my job" vs. "look like a normal mom for the school." My wardrobe is a weird mix of trendy shoes and Space Invaders t-shirts. The bright red poly raincoat and the sedate tan wool peacoat. The brown I dye my hair because I don't get taken as seriously when I stay blonde, and the red streaks I put in to punk it up. Ugh. How much time would we save if we never had to even think about this stuff?
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