the look: dress by Ranna Gill, belt from Anthropologie, sunglasses from Target
Women seem to be inundated with rules. Rules on dating, on parenting, on careers, on fitness - it would seem that the relative success of a woman's life is a public matter. Our bodies are especially treated as such - policed and shamed until we might dilute our look into something submissive and austere and boring (and spend a lot of money to get there). Oh - and do remember to look good doing it! Match your accessories and don't mix prints. No tights with open toed shoes and don't combine metals. No white after labor day and MY GOD make sure you know what styles are the most flattering for your body!
I find great relief in the glorious art of dressing however the fuck I'd like and not worrying what other people think. But I haven't completely arrived yet. I'm learning to love fashion as an art form, not as a means to look pleasing or accommodating. I'm finding that after a life of following the rules, I actually love the mess of ambiguity, the flowy tops and dresses that loosely hang, leaving me shapeless in a poof of fabric. So I'm cutting back on the rules and encouraging the imprecise. Let's see where this takes me.