Do I look like a mobster's wife?
Here's what I know. I went all in on my face and then I threw on my thinnest softest sweatshirt (thrift store find) my snuggliest softest coat (consignment store) big designer sunglasses (nordstrom rack) and some gold necklaces (etsy) ... Suddenly I felt like I should have some kind of accent, or maybe like I was a showgirl in vegas, but not like, in a bad way. Also, I was not cold.
That said - I felt awesome in this outfit. I felt like a comfortable ball of awesome. I felt sassy AF.
Sometimes we wear clothes because we want other people to like them. We want to send a message - this is my level of professionalism, this is my aesthetic, this is the kind of music I like, and on, and on. These dictates are external factors. Wearing a certain kind of shoe, a certain designer, a certain amount of make-up or accessories or layers, can connote an affiliation with a certain group.
I am a notorious chameleon - picking and choosing outfits that defy a single narrative box, but always worn in such a way that they throw off a "bohemian" vibe that I'm pretty sure is genetic and impossible to get rid of.
Here is an example.
I went through a phase where I wore exclusively black. Only black. Maybe sometimes dark denim, but mostly black. I have, for the most part, (barring a phase with statement necklaces during my bald phase) been into tiny, dainty, delicate jewelry. Yet, when people give me presents they are always brightly colored. They are large, dramatic, eye-catching, neon, sparkling, bright and fun. I find it hilarious, but also flattering. It is not my style, definitely not my aesthetic. But I would be woefully unaware it is a fair reflection of my personality. I can make black seem loud and colorful, such is my gift.
So when I decided to wear this particular ensemble I was thinking this:
1) It's cold. I refuse to let the cold dominate me.
2) I still don't feel amazing. I need something that won't squeeze my tummy (did you know tight clothes can trigger nausea? Learned that one the hard way during chemo)
3) I'm going on a date to a cool diner with my husband, I want to look kind of hot
These three parameters created the above ensemble. It defies a neat little box (although Mob Wife doesn't seem terribly far out of reach) but it felt totally, utterly me.