So, I bought my first copy of Vogue recently. I'd never really read Vogue before. I wasn't really raised as a "girlie girl." My mom had some lovely clothes for her professional life, but I always remember her in her bathrobe or sweats. I never learned how to apply makeup, never really went to the mall with my mom. Never really developed an obsession for shoes or clothes or makeup.
I was, after all, part of the first generation of women directly affected by Women's Lib. And I wasn't the sort of girl who got into that sort of thing in high school. In direct defiance to being told I was "ugly" all through childhood, and because of my status as relatively unpopular, I was always defiantly not into such things. After all, why did I need all of that adornment to attract people to me? I wanted to be me -- really, truly, 100% me -- and not have to buff myself up to feel good about myself. All part of my "I'm wonderful and if you don't like me, that's your problem" life philosophy. I didn't even really learn to put on makeup until I got into theater, and even now, I'm not especially good at it.
But we need to grow and change as people, and this is one of the ways in which I have been changing since my divorce. I'd gotten into a rut, you see, and new clothes were part of the way in which I tried to shake myself out of that rut after my divorce. I began to shop for more fashionable attire. Spend more money on clothes. And, once in awhile, dress up in a sexy outfit and go out and just have fun.
So, when confronted by Vogue a couple weeks ago, I picked it up. I decided that I'd check it out, read some articles. Get a sense of what's going on in the fashion world. And it was an interesting experience. I don't think I'll be checking out Vogue on a regular basis (I had to wade through 75 pages of ads just to find the index, for pete's sake). But it was kind of fun for a day -- kind of like dressing up for a special occasion and being a little girlie.
Don't get me wrong -- in the end, I'm still wearing jeans to work. Makeup and fussing with my hair are special-occasion events only (on a daily basis, my face is still fresh, clean, and unadorned). I still don't want to be fussing to make myself look perfect on a daily basis. Quite frankly, I'm too lazy for that. And deep inside myself, I still want to be liked for me, not me polished to a high gloss.
But I've also decided that it's OK to fuss a little bit once in awhile. That I can dress fashionably while still dressing comfortably. And that I can still be truly me while wearing a flattering top and tight jeans.
