My style has something to say...
This post is dedicated first to Amy Black, who helps snap me out of it just when I need it and and second to Lisa Bloom, for calling into question Silda Spitzer's expected role of standing beside her dirty, philandering husband.
Today at work a comment was made regarding me and fashion. A joke that ran something along the lines of all I cared about in school. This joke came from sources that have known me a whopping 3 weeks. And yet it still cut me. Oh how I wish it didn't. In my head I know that I need to shake this off, that it was totally a joke and should be funny (? well, debateably maybe). But I have to admit that I have total insecurities surrounding this issue. I have a fear of being assumed superficial, uncomprehending, and overly emotional. I also have a fear that, at times, this is true.
Let me begin this first by giving my philosophy on fashion.
First off, I believe that fashion is an expression of ourselves. Ok, most people who give it a second thought believe this too. Secondly, fashion for me is using all my resources to put something together that is creative, a mixture of being progressive and nostalgic, and yet, as a female, maintain a level of classy-ness and sexiness. I go to thrift stores just as often as boutiques and I will wear designer jeans just as much as an old dress I cut shorter. Thirdly, I don't believe that I have found a hard and fast artistic outlet for myself and this is one way that I can channel creativity and expression in a world that would have me be more sterile, put together and obedient.
All that being said, I do take offense when this is trivialized as an airheaded pursuit during my educational years resulting in statements such as "OMG look at her outfit today!". I'm sorry, male counterparts, but if your narrow minded insight leads you to put me in a category such as this, then you are the ones selling yourselves and others short during the years that really count: the years you are living your education.
I feel stifled, judged and misunderstood in these circumstances. And I know that freaking out only makes one believe that I probably feel an inkling of truth towards the statements, hence my beginning confession of having this fear. But I can honestly say that it takes me a long time to draw conclusions about people. We are all just so different and then totally the same and that complexity takes more than 3 weeks to piece together. Why not ask questions of someone and really try and understand them and leave it at that? Why do we need conclusions about who we are? I would've much rather been asked "What did you care about in school?" This line of thinking causes both individuals to think more, understand more.
On a different day, I would've never let the sarcastic jokes hit me the way they did. The fact of the matter is, I have a brutal sore throat right now, I woke up earlier than normal today, and had tension with my roomate way too early in the morning. I knew when I was washing my hair this morning that I was the walking definition of waking up on the wrong side of the bed and therefore had to combat my feelings. I guess I just didn't quite roll through the ole 9-5 as I would've successfully liked to. It doesn't also help that I quite respect the individual making the comments.
No matter, I'll be fine and professional at work tomorrow. I will not treat anyone differently. And I will wear my trouser pants with leather cheetah print kitten heels with finesse and grace.
Today at work a comment was made regarding me and fashion. A joke that ran something along the lines of all I cared about in school. This joke came from sources that have known me a whopping 3 weeks. And yet it still cut me. Oh how I wish it didn't. In my head I know that I need to shake this off, that it was totally a joke and should be funny (? well, debateably maybe). But I have to admit that I have total insecurities surrounding this issue. I have a fear of being assumed superficial, uncomprehending, and overly emotional. I also have a fear that, at times, this is true.
Let me begin this first by giving my philosophy on fashion.
First off, I believe that fashion is an expression of ourselves. Ok, most people who give it a second thought believe this too. Secondly, fashion for me is using all my resources to put something together that is creative, a mixture of being progressive and nostalgic, and yet, as a female, maintain a level of classy-ness and sexiness. I go to thrift stores just as often as boutiques and I will wear designer jeans just as much as an old dress I cut shorter. Thirdly, I don't believe that I have found a hard and fast artistic outlet for myself and this is one way that I can channel creativity and expression in a world that would have me be more sterile, put together and obedient.
All that being said, I do take offense when this is trivialized as an airheaded pursuit during my educational years resulting in statements such as "OMG look at her outfit today!". I'm sorry, male counterparts, but if your narrow minded insight leads you to put me in a category such as this, then you are the ones selling yourselves and others short during the years that really count: the years you are living your education.
I feel stifled, judged and misunderstood in these circumstances. And I know that freaking out only makes one believe that I probably feel an inkling of truth towards the statements, hence my beginning confession of having this fear. But I can honestly say that it takes me a long time to draw conclusions about people. We are all just so different and then totally the same and that complexity takes more than 3 weeks to piece together. Why not ask questions of someone and really try and understand them and leave it at that? Why do we need conclusions about who we are? I would've much rather been asked "What did you care about in school?" This line of thinking causes both individuals to think more, understand more.
On a different day, I would've never let the sarcastic jokes hit me the way they did. The fact of the matter is, I have a brutal sore throat right now, I woke up earlier than normal today, and had tension with my roomate way too early in the morning. I knew when I was washing my hair this morning that I was the walking definition of waking up on the wrong side of the bed and therefore had to combat my feelings. I guess I just didn't quite roll through the ole 9-5 as I would've successfully liked to. It doesn't also help that I quite respect the individual making the comments.
No matter, I'll be fine and professional at work tomorrow. I will not treat anyone differently. And I will wear my trouser pants with leather cheetah print kitten heels with finesse and grace.
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