In college I always envied the girls that looked like they threw something on and were still fabulous. I loved that mismatched matching look, but tried too hard to be able to pull it off. So I started small. I wore red kitten heels with a pair of grey capris and a black top. I even called my roommate to tell her how daring I was and that I didn't even care that they didn't match!
From there, moving to NYC, you truly don't care. I went out for coffee in my pjs and snow boots. I lived in Mexican house dresses and Havaianas. I was happy and confident every day. Fashion was my way of life and I lived it well.
Then I let myself get beat down emotionally by a controlling and manipulative boy. I moved to Dallas where fashion is anything but people's passion. It's a homogenous city where standing out is never done and real fashion happens a couple years late every single trend.
Not me anymore. Not today. I've asked the boy which earrings or which shoes or wanted his approval every morning for a year. Not anymore. Today I truly feel me - my uber-favorite tiger print mohair ballet flats with the black bow, my chambray dress romper from Paris, my Shopbop feather necklace, my vintage "grandma" earrings and my Urban straw fedora. I would be confident in any major city, here or abroad. And though I may garner glances here in Big D, I smile because it means I'm back to me.
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