Hello, it’s Melanie! Are you getting sick of me introducing myself? Should I come up with a different greeting? What about this, “Howdy, it’s a 20 year old girl who frequently questions the meaning of life and what life would be like after the death of her two cats!” No? Okay. You might be aware that I’ve been absent for about two weeks. You might also be completely unaware because you have better things to worry about, like rent, bills, children, the wage gap, how to dismantle the patriarchy, GMOs, parabens, what gluten really is, who is going to win the bachelor, etc. Well, I haven’t been writing for two weeks because my mind has been incredibly foggy. Think 50 degrees at 2 am foggy. That was actually just me recollecting when I had an early morning drive home from my cousin’s place in around 50 degree frosty weather. That was potentially the scariest drive I’ve ever had. The second scariest drive being a compilation of all the times my two friends have driven me places. I swear, I’ve seen several memes of people making fun of their friend’s driving. Are we all just bad drivers? I think it’s interesting how I’ve never noticed good drivers in my life. If I had to choose the best driver in my family, it would have to be my little sister; but even then, I think she drives a little slow. My mind has been foggy because I’ve been taking antibiotics for my wisdom teeth surgery, which I got last Monday. When I think of writing, I don’t think of being on medication, bleeding continuously out of four corners of my mouth, and crying tears of pain. When I write, I want to be relaxing on the couch and wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket while Alexa shuffles low-fi hip hop for my listening pleasure. Can you guess what kind of setting I’m in right now? I think it’s funny how they’re called wisdom teeth. I thought taking them out would give me reason to make a joke about myself suddenly being dumb, but according to a quick google search, they’re called “wisdom teeth because they appear so late, at an age when a person matures into adulthood and is “wiser” than when other teeth have erupted.” I think wisdom teeth and fashion / clothing can have some things in common if you’re like me and try to find meaning and connections in everything. As I mentioned, they’re called wisdom teeth because their growth lines the front porch of the oh-so-welcoming home we call, “Adulthood.” On another note, if Adulthood was a home wherein one gains access to the house key only after leasing out the apartments of Adolescence and Child, what would the neighborhood be called? Life? I think it’s weird to imagine myself as an adult. I consider dragging myself to the gym one of the most adult things I do. I literally told my sister yesterday that sometimes when I go to the gym, I feel like a 30 year old woman because of my baggy workout tank, leggings, low ponytail , and mom car. She agreed and I’m not mad about it. What does fashion have to do with wisdom teeth/ adulthood in general? Clothes have always been a creative outlet for me. Even when I was constantly wearing the same hoodie and jeans in middle school, I was admiring the way celebrities dressed in magazines and online. I’m still convinced that I was more knowledgeable about brand names and celebrities back then than I currently am. There seemed to be so much time back then. There is something to be said about the way one dresses and growing up, though. Based on real life experience and what the media portrays to us, I’ve gathered that clothing seems more subdued, modest, and neutral/ leaning on bland as one gets older. It is required at a majority of job interviews that one must be dressed in neutral colors, wear sensible shoes, have natural hair, and cover tattoos. Does more responsibility mean less time to think about clothing? Or do people care less about how they appear when they age? Does adulthood, in all it’s 9-5 splendor, call for less individuality and more conformity?
Perhaps it was my lack of seeing fashionable older people that made me admire my English 101 teacher that much more. Not only was she the most eccentric and hilarious teacher I’ve ever had, but her style was incredible. She unapologetically rocked a lob full of grey hair, effortlessly contrasted her signature hot pink blazer with boyfriend jeans, wore silky, patterned scarfs, very impractical high heels, added daily retro coolness with cat eye glasses, and made bright pink lipstick her own. She was and still is the definition of utterly cool English teacher to me. She always called on me in class, but I didn’t care. In fact, I thrived in her attention to me. And as an introvert, that means a lot. She isn’t the only older stylish lady I look up to, though. The Netflix documentary, Advanced Style, captured my undivided attention years ago with it’s inspirational women who seemed to grow more confidence and style with age. Linda Rodin is another bold lady who I have the pleasure of marveling at.
For me, choosing an outfit or piecing outfits together in my mind does in fact invoke a sense of creative childishness. I equate adulthood with responsibility, and deciding whether or not I should wear a teddy jacket or denim jacket is not my utmost responsibility, and should not be. That doesn’t mean I won’t spend time thinking about it, though. Piecing together outfits is one of my favorite things to do, but I know that it is not a responsibility. Just because we love something, doesn’t mean that it is essential to living life. At the end of the day, I need to worry about school, money, work, and family and friends to continue on the trajectory I hope for myself. Clothes are the sprinkles that color an otherwise vanilla day for me. A nice outfit will not fulfill me in the same way that having my dream job and loving relationships can. I used to play dress up on the website “Roiworld” as a child. The website was also the most likely source of dad’s laptop viruses. Sorry dad! I played those dress up games religiously and found so much joy in them. Maybe that’s why I view dressing up or picking an outfit as a fragment of creative childishness. But I don’t think I’m the only one. Princess dresses, barbie dolls, and colorful clothes have marked my childhood and presumably, many other girls’ and boys’. (c’mon it’s 2019! Let your boys wear what they want and vise versa!) As long as I can help it, I don’t think I’ll ever stop “playing dress up,” but the ant-sized adult in me knows that there are more valuable things in this (Roi)world. I really missed writing. I did NOT miss my cat, Rumi, getting in my laptop typing space. Thank you for reading.
Melanie T / MelT
melt fashion 