Thursday, July 10, 2008

Fashion Schizophrenia

I'm the kind of woman who appreciates other women.   I know there's a stereotype (and not without truth behind it) that women are each other's worst enemies - judging and tearing each other down.  I'm not like that.  I'm one of those people who whisper, "Great shoes!" to strangers in the elevator.  The other day at work, I got caught telling a co-worker, "Those jeans make your butt look amazing!"  

And therein lies my problem- I so admire other women's styles that I sometimes wish I could adapt them to myself.  The problem being that I already have my own style, one that I usually love and think accurately represents who I am.  But every once in a while, I see someone rocking a studded leather cuff and think, "That is SO cool!  I want to be cool like that!"  And then suddenly, I'm contemplating the purchase of one to wear with...what?  One of my dirndl skirts?  A pair of trouser jeans?  I don't think so.  But it doesn't mean that deep down, I don't have a little rock in me.  Here are the most pervasive looks that I so wish were me:

Mia Tyler embodies the rocker chick thing that I desperately wish I could pull off.  The mussed up hair, smudgy eyes, and tattoos are so appealing for some reason. I do have a couple of tattoos, but they're of the "sorority girl on spring break" variety. 

I can't stand hair in my face.  But I love the way it looks on other women.  

I'm also a fan of the quirky-sexpot look.  In theory.  

 I'd like to wear hats.  But they make my head hot, which makes my hair frizzy.  Not all cute and flowing like this girl's. 
I never quite got over the princess fantasy.  I'm still attracted to anything shiny and beaded and low cut.  Sue me. 

There's nothing wrong with envying another woman's great style but sticking with your own.  When I feel a little Mia Tyler coming on, I add liner to my lower lash line.  When I want to amp up the sexy, I pull on a pair of red shoes (but skip the fishnet knee-highs).  And when my inner beauty queen comes knocking, I whip out the hot rollers and hair spray.  (And usually end up with my hair in a really coiffed ponytail.)  The point is, embracing  the schizophrenic urges is usually fun.  

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