Looking into the Abyss

"Fashion is what you adopt when you don't know who you are.” Quentin Crisp

And so Mr. Crisp cuts to the quick of the matter in a few brief words. Don't mistake my intent; I adore fashion. I still remember in junior high chosing to read Seventeen over Teen because the clothes were edgier and the spreads more editorial. I didn't express it in those words at age 13, but I did respond to Seventeen's display of clothes as part of an artistic moment rather than items for sale like a catalogue. They weren't selling garmets; they were selling an experience. That perhaps, in a vintage floral dress with ten strands of pearls and a partially laced pair of ivory Converse, my prom would not be just dancing with some friends and a tolerable boy at the local Hilton. Rather, it would be a magical woodland experience. (Magazines always love to shoot evening wear in the forest--allusions to forest setting archeytpes? Absolutely.) And rather than being the awkward, invisible girl that no one noticed or cared about, I would be the edgy, stylish siren who was suddenly demanded notice.

Of course that didn't happen. My prom dress was unique, mostly because my mother refused to shell out $200 bucks for the variations of sequined fitted dresses our town's local evening wear shop pedaled. Instead, my dress was made from intended Halloween fabric--a shimmery pale green and silver one shouldered gown that was the only one like it in the room, not that anyone other than I cared. The experience wasn't there, but in some way, the dress was.

My life in its own way is a story told through clothes. Not intentionally, of course. There are those special pieces that I hang on to even though I know I will never wear them again: the green prom dress, the tiger striped slides I wore to my college graduation, the cranberry handkerchief dress I wore for my first Valentines day with my husband, a black and white silk-screened mini-dress with red marabou trim from my first Prince concert, my wedding dress . . .

More than those trappings of special occasions, my clothes have also represented who I was at a certain time, or at least who I was trying to be. There was a period in college when I tried desperately to emulate Audrey Hepburn's simple chicness. I never made the mistake of trying to fit my size 8 to 12 (depending on the year) curves into gamine style, but I did adopt her very simplistic style. Almost no patterns, lots of black, lots of separates, very simple. And I did look put together most of the time. However, looking back, it wasn't much fun getting dressed in the morning.

Much of that changed when I started watching "Sex and the City." Like I would assume a large number of women, I am influenced by popular culture. Not that I tried to copy Carrie's style, but it did make me remember that fashion can be fun. The only trends I really took away from it were flower pins and mixing patterns. And I still love both of those things.

I will admit here and now with no shame: I love clothes. More than that, I love clothes, shoes, handbags, and makeup. I like jewelry to some regard, although rarely is a piece of jewelry on the top of my shopping list. It is with pride that I admit to having a reasonable working knowledge of fashion history and well as current designers. Once upon a time I used to be able to flip through InStyle and name who designed all the pieces without looking at the caption. Although, I haven't done that in a while, so I'm out of practice.

So what is the point of all this, you may ask. The point is, I looked in my closet the other day and realized that of the large number of clothes I have, I only really love wearing about 1/3 of them. The other 2/3 I either don't care or actually don't want to wear. For some reason I find that depressing. And I intend to do something about it.

The thing is, if I were Madonna, or a Real Housewife of (insert city here), I could just buy whatever I wanted whenever I wanted and not worry about it. I could toss out last season's stuff without a thought. But I'm not. I'm a mom with a challenging toddler, loving husband, and a mortgage payment. Up until now, I tend to buy things because they strike my fancy or they are reasonably cheap. But that has landed me with a closet full of just okay stuff that I don't necessarily love wearing.

Now I know that everyone tells you to just invest in some uber-versitile, well made pieces rather than buying trends. I agree with the last part. Some trends I do love and don't mind buying a few cheap pieces of (I am currently in love with Old Navy's dip-dyed maxis and I am just tall enough to wear them), but just the same well-made staples? That just doesn't sound fun.

So where to go from here? The first is to access what I really love and why. The second, what loves me back and why. Then I need to look at how it comes together, how I maintain it, how I keep it fresh.

I am setting out on a journey. My goal is not fashion, but style. Along the way I want to look at some of my favorite style moments in various mediums, as well as finding new and wonderful places to invest in fun, fabulous, and income appropriate clothes. My hope is that somewhere out there in cyber-space are other women who are real sized with real incomes who want all the Bradshaw fun without having to kill themselves financially.

I invite you along. Who knows where we'll end up? And isn't that the fun of it?