Sometimes I think I finally have this style thing figured out. I decide that I only like things black/white/navy/khaki, only in solids and simple, classic shapes. Minimalistic, simplistic, to the bone, Parisian chic, only accentuated with scarves and maybe a statement handbag or a pair of pink pointy shoes.
I feel proud of my streamlined silhouette and simplified closet, congratulate myself on my refined taste and then somebody like Wendy asks: 'but how about florals?'. 'No, we don't do florals. Too fussy. Too twee. Too feminine' my Parisian self replies with indignation. Hmmm, really? Then she looks in the closet.
Oooops. There it is. The proof. Six liberty print shirts. Three skirts. With big florals. And the dresses. She forgot about the dresses. She always liked roses. But only in the garden. Or on other (less sophisticated) people Yet, here they are.
OK, I give up. What the heck. I do like them. We cannot always be black and white.
I asked my mother about the style thing. She is 75. She said she is still working on it. Happily.
|Dress by Banana Republic (old)|
That's all folks!
Do you rebel against your own style?
Do you feel like you are always a work in progress?