Blank Becomes Her

I read and peruse a lot of style blogs. Most of the time for glorious eye candy, ideas, inspiration, photography, etc. The thing that I notice most though, is that in many of these blogs the writer generally has a specific style down. Some fancy the look of the 40's, some were deeply affected by "Grease", some dig the 60's vibe. But what happens when you don't have a specific trail to follow. I've always loved almost everything when it comes to fashion.

I've sighed looking at Dita Von Teese's book.



And I've bought shirts that reminded me of Penny Lane. I love pencil skirts but I've also been known to wear more bohemian frocks. I've mastered the cat's eye and I've thrown a flannel shirt on in the same day. I've no specific style to tell of, and sometimes it drives me crazy. It drives me batshit crazy when it comes to finding something to wear when going out. My mind ever indecisive and my closet just as confused. I can commit to marriage and child, tattoos and calendar dates, but when it comes to defining myself in fashion I have a mini panic attack.

Perhaps it's from being in drama. Hiding in the wardrobe room and trying everything on only to realize that one dress was just as fun to wear as the next. I wanted to be a 40's librarian and maybe tomorrow I can be Bridgette Bardot! Today I'm a flapper and tomorrow I can be a girl who danced at Studio 54. It made me giddy and though I've left the wardrobe room back at my old high school, I've taken the same spirit with me.

So maybe that's it. Maybe I'm not a 40's incarnate or a 60's muse. Maybe I'm not a 70's disco queen or a Seattle transplant. Maybe I'm just a girl who likes to play dress up.