So let me explain.....
It all started with this jacket. I'd seen this print around here and there and it is without a doubt swoon-worthy, but it was always in the form of a bag or wallet. One day as I was perusing Macy's (which honestly I hadn't done in eons) there it was in all its magical print-glory, moto jacket style....on sale at the low low price of like $19, and sold out in every size EXCEPT mine ** INSERT SKULL AND COFFIN EMOJI**. And ummm, I added a coupon code....OKAAAAYYYY.
The sleeveless hooded-maxi is beyond comfy and super long so I did a little side knot as to not have to deal with the street sweeping effect, plus I wanted to flash a little leg. The boots are an awesome shape and have these snazzy cutouts that I love, my bag is an old time favorito, and I'm an absolute sucker for taupe so the fact that they were both in that color was a match made. Putting together this 'fit might as well have been done in the dark it was so effortless.
My love affair with juxtaposition should not be news at this point. If you've been following me for a while and how I express myself (and style enthusiasts alike in general) I think it's safe to say that it's an aesthetic that a wide variety of fashion folk have professed their love for...the concept isn't breaking news. I just get so happy about it that I can't help but join in the professing of love for it every time it is blatantly showcased (like a beautiful floral design printed on a "leather" moto jacket).#JuxtapositionForTheWin
I've worn this jacket several times and every time I've used it as a tool to add feminine flare to a tomboy/ ruff and tumble "devil may care" look; but the more I've worn it and taken it off at the end of the day...the more I've realized the garment was me in jacket form. I may be crazy or you may be thinking to yourself that I overly romanticize my relationship with my clothing, your thoughts I can't control, but bare with me. I find myself looking at my clothes and feeling deep connections with individual pieces, not every piece speaks to me on a similar plain but there is a vibration and a language unique to each one.
The night I looked across my room and at this jacket laying on the infamous stack of clothing set out for future shoots, I realized I was essentially looking at myself. Lately I've been going through the unraveling of the century, I honestly struggled with the idea of sharing this part of myself and/or (if/and) how much of the details I should share as well. But, I decided to let you in a smidgen because I know there is an alarming many who have more than walked in my shoes and have felt alone.
Me, much like this jacket, which is adorned with this pretty print that adds spunk and unexpected feminine wile to its badassery (and trust despite the Pop-O-Frill this jacket is BAD ASS AF), it still has a fragility to it regardless of its edgy intent. It is still expected, if not required, to function AND be fabulous. I know you might be thinking to yourself that that's a ton of "self-inflicted" pressure...not entirely. Don't get me wrong I do allow myself to be less than what fits MY "fabulous" ideal. But, when there are extended periods of time of unraveled piles-o-yarn in all the corners of my mind, that do nothing but turn into knots upon my attempt to not perfectly ravel them back into their pretty little package, but at the very least get them back in order... I become extremely hard on myself.
So here is this jacket, this jacket with its tough exterior and its need for usefulness...but if you really look you can see something fragile beneath the surface (an avid self-preservationist whose biology at this point seems to have evolved into nothing short of armor) who also wants to bare itself for the delicate flower it is, and the absolute beautiful mess they've potentially become (and may become time and time again).
And as this blanket of confusion and despair that I feel like my life is wrapped in just yoyo's me around (due to illnesses and some other things I probably won't elaborate on right now) I struggle to drown out the sounds of my own self deprecating voice, the well-intentioned grab bag of cliche quotes people who live on the other side of the fence use to silence my woes, the tough love from the motivational speakers, doer's, and "liver's" who think a few words of encouragement can fix the broken, and the laughter that vibrates from the cosmic line of existence so deep within you that you almost feel like it may be you who's laughing at you...(then again maybe you are...laughing at you); you clear a space, you find a space that's just yours and sometimes you just enjoy the silence, sometimes you fill it with vibrant pretty things. I try and lose myself in my art when I can and if I can, even though extenuating circumstances threaten to take away that peace of mind.
Then through all the mucky muck, I cleared a space. I began to edit this set of photos and I wanted to tell you guys why I loved this jacket, why it was so incredibly me, what I've been going through and how I've been attempting to cope. I wanted to let you know that if you were anything like me that you were not alone, that I too struggle. I wanted to express to you what I did in that space in my mind (I decorated), it doesn't fix the broken but it brightens up the place and the flowers smell amazing (I also cracked a window). Every single day I am trying. Every. Single. Day. Despite what people may think or may have you believe about yourself, waking up WAS a blessing and an accomplishment. I forget this a hundred times a day, I have to remind myself a hundred and one. When you're sick...the smallest of tasks...the smallest....are so taken for granted, so if you get it done that day...? Don't downplay YOUR accomplishment/s. This is not to promote stagnancy, but I think we live in a world (whether it be internally or externally) that plays everything we do, down.
It's amazing how a "simple" jacket can open up gates to self-reflection.
What I'm Wearing: