Fashion Victim

I am a walking fashion mess, and I am perfectly okay with that. I can't justify spenging hundreds of dollars on clothes that I will only wear for a season. (I'd much rather spend that money on something functional, like a kiln!) So I often recycle clothes for years, wearing them until I can't patch the holes anymore.

I have to say, there is a great deal of art influencing fashion, and I appreciate that. I appreciate the Mona Lisa also, but I can't justify buying it, hanging it on my wall, and staring at it everyday. Just like fashion, I'll get tired of looking at it, and it will become just another THING in my house that takes up space and is completely taken for granted. It's like eating Cheerios everyday. I hate Cheerios.

Houston fashion is something completely unlike anything else I've ever experienced. Women here like sparkly, glittery things. Perfectly coifed Japanese-straightened platinum hair and razor sharp French manicured claws. I've often heard the mumbles & grumbles as I walk by in my cargo shorts & huge frumpy T-shirts. The little snickers and insults that women are so adept at. At 5'11", all it takes is a mere glance in their petite direction to shut them up. But I don't begrudge them their Gucci and Prada. I admire their taste. Beautiful things for beautiful people.

I'm just not a sparkly, glittery kind of girl anymore. That doesn't mean I don't appreciate it. I just choose not to participate.