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| Krista Larson catalog. |
The process of maturing, evolving (one hopes), becoming, is interior. There have been moments of craving a muffler-length flowered cotton scarf, rose patterned socks or a red lipstick but mostly it has been about shedding outworn beliefs, acknowledging that nothing is guaranteed and adapting to the world as it is.
Comes a time, though, when redecorating one's exterior begins to appeal, almost to the point of obsession. Thanks (I believe that would be the accurate word) to Pinterest, I have found what I want to be my style in these advancing years. The means to make that possible have not yet appeared. I am not discouraged.
As with so many aspects of human life, I feel a time machine would be a useful device to (a) return to the easier availability of luxury fabrics close to home and (b) obtain them at their 1970s, if not earlier, prices. Once you've seen an outfit in silk, anything that is not silk seems a poor second choice. This all sounds, I realize, embarrassingly trivial, especially when positioned next to aspects of reality that keep us all awake at night. That alone is reason enough to spend fantasy time imagining one's self as stunning for no reason or occasion. The world will not set itself aright because I stop mooning over clothes I wish I'd seen 40 years ago. I used to sew reasonably well. I might be able to do it again.
The point of this is to be a bit silly. In the first place, we like what we like, we love what we love and it is unkind to the point of sadism to curtail harmless daydreaming. Just as with actual children, we know better than to yank our interior child selves by the arm, scowl and drag us out of the store, ashamed, yet not understanding why. It has become part of my manifesto, the belief that beauty as we identify it feeds our hearts and souls.
Beauty makes us strong, even though we can grow weak at the knees in its presence. Shame and a sense of lack deplete us, tarnish what glows from within and without. To link arms with beauty does not require possessing its coveted manifestations. Sometimes to imagine is enough.
4 comments:
"Beauty as we identify it feeds our hearts and souls." MK
YES!
Have you heard of the Stendhal Syndrome? "...a disorder that causes rapid heartbeat, dizziness, fainting, confusion and even hallucinations when an individual is exposed to an experience of great personal significance, particularly viewing art. The term can also be used to describe a similar reaction when confronted with immense beauty in the natural world." Wikipedia
Why do they call it a disorder? It's within my natural order of things.
Kass - I agree, an appropriate response not a disorder. To remain unmoved by beauty or a profound experience seems the disorder. It is within my natural order of things, too. A way of pulse-taking to assure that we are still here. Thank you for this. I'm sure I use the word "swoon" several times a week. To take the breath away. Of course. xo
I can totally relate to the obsession? preoccupation? desire? to formally exhibit the interior on the exterior. Maybe this becomes more important as we age and get it right. More times than not, at any rate.In exactly the same way we ... *I* ... don't want to waste one more minute on things that are of no interest or import to me, I want to clothe myself in fabrics that make my heart sing, styles that make my body soar. The essence of beauty, after all.
Jen - Whether or not the obsession/passion is realized in a timely way or not, it is knowledge to have identified an ideal style. My current life and, as my cousin used to call them, spiffy clothes are not entirely congruent. Still, there is great happiness in seeing that things so perfect, so beautiful exist. xo
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