Cinderblock

I was cleaning out my closet earlier, extracting all of the winter woolens from the mix (I guess I'm finally willing to concede that it's no longer January?) when I realized that I don't wear half of these.  Possibly more.  Why?

Because I have a blazer-buying problem!  Here's the issue: In theory I think I like blazers, but when it comes to choosing an outfit for something that counts, I cannot stomach this particular garment.  Why?

It's not a lack of quality, or for that matter quantity or variety of style:  I've got wools and silks, linens, blends, white blazers, pink blazers, blacks and bouclés, gold buttons, zipper fronts, shoulder padded and shoulder moulded, "boyfriend" and sexy secretary.  I could pull of Annie Hall or 80s power-bitch with equal ease!

However, in those situations that induce real moments of self honesty, when I'm standing in front of my closet nervously tearing through shelf after shelf, both naked and late, I might not know what to wear, but it seems that I sure as hell know what I can't wear.  This higher Buddha-of-a-self that I seem to possess has instantaneous radar for any and all things that may cause me to feel ill at ease.  And on the topic of blazers, this smarter-me tells me the same thing every time: "@#$(*@#$& THAT SHIT!" Beautiful.  Alas, this wise creature likes to skip out on my shopping excursions, though, and therein lies the problem, and the reason that this is even a problem in the first place!

From time to time I'll wear them out, but only to undertake something like grocery shopping, and in situations where I anticipate minimal human interaction. Because this makes a lot of sense: "Oh, I should wear more of what makes me really uncomfortable!" Because that's style.

You know what I have to say to that? FUCK IT!

I like a challenge, but this is one challenge that just isn't worth it. Epiphany of the day: Personal style is a matter of being brutally honest with yourself.  And honestly? Blazers; they make me feel like a HUMAN CINDERBLOCK (okay, rationally it's ridiculous, so much for that).   In any case, I don't want to conduct my life feeling like a cinderblock.  Can I?  Yeah, sure.  But I don't want to, and I'm guessing that distinction is where "style" resides.  If you don't like it, ditch it.  That's style.

Do you ever feel like someone else in a particular style of clothing or interior?

Film Stills from The Great Gatsby, 1974.

John Singer Sargent, Fumée d'Ambre Gris, 1879-80

Dress, Hattie Carnegie

Dress, Madeleine Vionnet, 1914