Over
the course of my life I’ve found that there are a few questions in particular
that have troubled me. Ironically enough, one of these questions is “how would
you describe your style?” I was always stumped, leaving the curious with no
answer. Today, ladies (and gentlemen of the inquisitive kind), I have an
answer.
My style has evolved
over time. I’ve been a conformist, and I’ve been a rebel (sort of). I remember
being six years old and thinking the white furry t-shirt I had was it, and
I promised myself that I would wear nothing other than articles white and furry
(note: I have never followed this law). As I got older, my style changed and I
wanted to be wearing what everyone else was wearing - we all go through this
phase, right? Looking back, it was a weird time; but if it weren’t for this age
of conventionality, I would have never known what it means to not abide
by my city’s style.
Sometimes I find
myself looking into my closet and wondering why I love this space so much. Why
do I find peace staring at multiple hangers placed underneath some of the
wackiest clothes I can get my hands on? Well, it’s much more than that. It is
all the different ways I have seen ever-changing fashion through my own unique
eyes. Style is interesting, mostly because everyone’s is different. If I were
to walk into a department store with any one of you readers, the chances of our
eyes spotting completely different garments are extremely high. In a situation
like this, I find endless beauty.
So
when prompted with the question, "how would you describe your
style?," I will happily and confidently answer. I have the style of a
five-year old who has just been allowed to dress herself for the first time.
This is not because I instinctively sway towards overalls, peter-pan collars,
and baby-doll dresses; this is because I see undying possibilities when I look
into my closet, as if I am looking at it with a fresh pair of eyes. In the past
couple years, more often than not, I have found myself jumping out of bed to
visit my closet in the morning. She is my best friend, mostly because she feeds
my individuality. She does not feed me because I get dressed in robot motions
(hungry in this potent world of fashion) but because I allow myself to be open
to these undying possibilities. For the most part, I've realized that it's
increasingly okay to wear my mothers 90s pantsuit, paired with my 12 year old
brother's socks, and alongside 10 lb. monster boots (and if it isn't, I really
don't care). Understandably I see limits in the world, but I see no limits in
my closet. Formulating and perfecting my personal style has brought out my
inner child, and a five-year old Emma is here to stay.
