I have Just finished packing my bag for an upcoming trip to El Salvador. This time it was a little more challenging as the itinerary includes a a weeklong beach stay, a four hour bus ride, a formal affair and a business meeting. Usually I just wear the same jeans all week because I pretty much do nothing that requires a wardrobe change. I packed all of my stuff and Finn’s and half the bag is still empty. I have to say – feeling very pleased with my packing job because I had the following epiphany: I have finally gotten to a point in my life where both externally and internally I travel light. It took me a mere ten minutes to pick what I wanted to bring and I did not obsess over details or bring tons of choices. Anything will do- not too worried about it.
It seems like another lifetime ago when that bag would have been two bags and I was pretty interested in keeping up on trends and knowing what was new or up and coming. It was equally important to know what to chuck in order to avoid the much feared fashion faux pas. I remember spending absurd amounts of money on clothes that I ended up giving away. I remember being glued to my computer reading fashion blogs, while religiously reading my mags, alternating between digital and print, lost in a world created by people not much different than us, who have become by virtue of their knowledge of fabric and the human psyche fashion arbiters, dictating what you will put on your back when the season is over. They have a say in all sartorial matters, and have managed to convince the whole world it is perfectly reasonable to own a three thousand dollar handbag that will be on the “toss” pile in a year. Even worse, you don't think twice on spending top dollar because it is “so you “ and SO unique and then it turns out everybody and their mother show up with the same bag. Goodbye special possession. (This is a true story- it happened to me with that Falabella bag I was so smitten with).
It's bad enough to be a sucker but things turn plain sad when people are buying shit they're not even sure they like to fulfill a need for status or approval- to be seen or perceived a certain way- and that's just messed up. It probably means you don't approve of yourself. Or that the person you are isn't enough without all the bells and whistles. I believe those who rely on a constant pursuit of the newest thing to feel good are doomed to live in a state of obsessive dissatisfaction or even worse-in a constant imaginary competition with others. I venture to say imaginary, as this competition is in their heads, and they should let it go, most people don't give a shit about what you're wearing anyway.
I can't deny pretty things are exciting to have and make your own. I was excited to check out fashion week.All of them, NY, Milano, Paris. But after being completely bombarded with constant "Wear this, wear that, shop this, chuck that" ,and MUST haves for a year from now - I felt tired. All these bloggers prancing around in their borrowed clothes on Instagram ,the fabulousness- it was just too much. It cannot possibly be this important. Plus I don't think it is particularly cool to be a drone dressed in dollars- anybody with a credit card can buy what the celebs are wearing. I love seeing outfits that aren't about price tags but a unique personal style. Sure, I wouldn't say no to a pair of of-the-moment Chloe sandals, but they will never be worth my anxiety. I don’t strive to look perfect, and I am guessing it's because I have gotten to a point where I feel perfectly comfy inside. I don’t deliberately want to be a disheveled outdated mess, but I do want space to breathe and to be me. To take it or leave it. I don’t feel like giving up half my child’s Montessori tuition to have a closet full of things that will validate me as a person of taste and means.
The conclusion I have reached after many years in the fashion rat race is that since I am not: a)a Vogue editor b) a drone, c)a mannequin or d)a billboard, my job is to be happy, not on point 24/7. I think at this point the quality of the friends and relationships I have say more about me than my purse. I think the way my husband looks at me says more about me than the Cartier love bracelet. I have decidedly chosen to not be a slave— to fashion or appearances or to any of the supposed to's. Life is complicated enough dude. I'd rather be known for having substance and treating others well than for being a baby Kardashian.In the grand scheme of things, when we cannot have a fair election in my country, when girls have to deal with being molested by their principal if they attend public school in the third world, when there is such a lack of education, too much poverty and no equal opportunity, does it really matter if the soles of my shoes are red?
