A Fashion Love Story...

A fashion love story...

 

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At the time I took the picture, my daughter Viva had just finished a rousing game of dress up. Her imagination was activated and, while looking out of the window, she seemed to be wearing a new pair of eyes as well as Mommy’s old clothes and wig.  She stood there gracefully; knowing she had been transformed…

In a photo, that is why I love fashion.  It is the interactive art that fuels our personal creativity. On a daily basis we manifest our most lofty selves through the grand bell sleeve, or our whimsy in a colorful scarf. We adorn ourselves to become ourselves.  Our life phases represent themselves through the abandonment or adoption of new styles of dress.  Old identities revolve like the dry cleaners’ rack; with previous incarnations wrapped in the plastic of memory.  

We look at pictures of ourselves from years ago and laugh nervously while our new love looks at us with that teasing, quizzical smile; ” I don’t know what possessed me”, you say, but you remember all too well the day you went to see Menudo and, Miguel Angel Cancel sang Clara just to you; or so you thought…  You wore that T-shirt every day for a year to bed and, on weekends in the house with your record player well, “no Mami it doesn’t need washing… 

Even as an adult, I enjoy few things more than the dress up game. Designers such as Isabel Toledo create folds that bend our concept of what is possible when dressing the human form. These bridges of cloth and sequins transport us from the inside out; allowing us to merge our subjective truth to the us that is waiting. And, there is always a new self waiting… As a woman, my fashion evolutions are seldom random, sometimes questionable but, always intuitive indicators of my inner revolutions.  

I don’t have too many of my old clothes for the same reason I don’t have my 10th grade history book; I learned those lessons.  They are now trunk treasures for my daughter on a rainy weekend afternoon. 

 
 

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