I’ve been on a real shopping kickkkk lately. Post Rowe, this body is anything but familiar to me. I usually know exactly what looks right. What fit will flatter. And typically, jeans are no-brainers. Now, not so much. I am between leaning into total mommy vibes and trying to find my language in my closet again.
Which has led me to think about contrast.
So much of your wardrobe is just that — a balancing act. Varying your textures. Adding layers. Playing with shape. Surprising the eye. Applying a punch when needed. Telling a story. Better yet, a narrative.
Just like art. It is always in need of that tension play. It is what makes art feel a certain way. The depth. Taking the eye through a work. Having a perspective. A stance. Playing with that push and pull.
I hope these dots are connecting.
Having your own voice is a beautiful thing. Being different is good. Not giving in to what is expected is freeing.
I often have to lean back into my own work to remind myself of these things.
That I can do both, it is not one or the other.
In contrast, all the beauty is found.