I rediscovered a blogger I used to know as No Signposts in the Sea.
You can find here.
I stole half of her haircut ;)
Recently she wrote :
“Living in the countryside has changed my clothing choices a lot more than I’d like to admit. I dress more cautiously, because people stare. I never thought that I’d become that person whose style is dictated by others.
I read this shortly after tossing India Knight’s latest book across the kitchen table in disgust. At 50 plus she tells me that the aim above all others is not to appear ridiculous, to fit in.
There is a wonderful made-up Old Norse-ish word which I came across in my reading of Beautiful Wreck: “Beiskaldi”, which Larissa Brown translates as: “bitter-cold-griping-bitch”. It is an expression that I see in the faces of so many women (let’s face it – the RBF).
|Photo by Christine taken at the Edinburgh Yarn Festival|
Reading “Women in Clothes” is deeply therapeutic. It reminds me that there is a whole diverse world out there.
There are women who choose to dress as men and vice versa. There are women who work in garment factories who can’t afford to buy the “cheap” clothes they are employed to mass-produce. There are women whose hats smell of strawberry shampoo and others who are so squeaky clean they do not leave a trace: robot women! Women who choose to wear the hijab because they feel it grants them freedom. Women who believe it is “more punk” to wear conventional clothing and devote their creative energies to something other than dress.
Another photo essay presents six women wearing each other’s clothes – without comment. Which one looks comfortable in their own skin? Who has on their armour to face the day, their own uniform, their costume?
|The other side of my haircut, emptying the compost pail after work|
That my age does not have to dictate my appearance.
That I do not have to bow to convention.
“Fitting in” is not the only way forward.
Two more bags of clothes went to the charity shop today. They included the interview suit I wore 11 years ago, now hopelessly out of date and fragrant with mould. That says it all.
Whichever direction I choose next, I am clear that it will require a simpler, cleaner version of me. I am no longer interested in novelty prints or girlish details.
My notebook is full of longer skirts, solid colours, stronger lines.
It’s all a bit more grown-up looking.
Maybe it’s time.