TWO STYLE LESSONS I LEARNED FROM THE WOMEN WHO RAISED ME
As a child, you spend a lot of time looking up - both physically and metaphorically. The fashion around you when you are younger can shape your style long after you have traded Justice for J. Crew. I count myself lucky, then, to have spent so much of my childhood inside the closets of the women who have made me who I am today. Women who taught me to be and wear what I want (and then gently asked me if I really wanted to wear that outside of the house).
Take my aunt, for instance. A woman who frequently shows up to family dinners in six inch heels, hair blown out and dressed to the nines, her equally stylish daughters eagerly following behind the swish of her pucci flares. My aunt, a law school grad and responsible mother of three, who absolutely refuses to take fashion too seriously. Her catchphrase is “Why not?” As in: Why not put on heels just because you feel like it? Why not let your six-year-old dress you? Why not wear whatever you want whenever you want, because life is short and there is no sense in waiting for a special occasion to wear what you love.
I think of my aunt when I wear my favorite Alexander Wang heels to the movies on a rainy Saturday afternoon, or when I throw on bright orange lipstick just because. I think of her every time I do something purely because it makes me happy, even if it seems inconvenient, or inappropriate, or just plain weird. Without her, I would not have my favorite diamond earrings, or my wealth of hand-me-downs Manolo Blahniks, or my fearlessness when it comes to fashion. Because of her, I am unafraid to make mistakes.
That same fearlessness served me well on Saturday nights at home when my mother would come into my room at 7p.m., like clockwork, asking for outfit advice. Her questions were always the same: Which shoes look better with my leather pants? Is this too much cheetah print? Am I pulling this off? My answer was always a resounding yes.
My mother, for all her mild outfit insecurity, taught me to never stop having fun with fashion. Her enormous walk-in closet is lined with Marchesa gowns next to neatly folded Gap t-shirts next to a peasant skirt that, I kid you not, was originally handed down to me from my older cousin. She does not discriminate based on brands, fostering my lifetime love of shopping for clothes at Target, and she certainly does not discriminate based on what items of clothing actually belong to her. I cannot count the amount of times she has rifled through my closet in search of something to wear. She has no rules when it comes to style, she is never snobby and always willing to try something new. She is still waiting for the day that her favorite ‘80s looks will come back into style. She genuinely believes that day will come.
More than anything, however, my mother taught me to love and appreciate fashion. Her nearly constant visits to my room for outfit advice showed me that I love telling people what to wear. Our obsessive watching of any and all red carpet coverage made me yearn to report on celebrity style with Ryan Seacrest and Giuliana Rancic. Her treasure trove of fashion magazines fueled my dream of someday writing for one.
If you are a believer in the old adage that style is a representation of who you are, which I am, then my style is merely a representation of the women who have raised me. I am here, sitting in this coffee shop, writing this piece, dreaming of the upcoming Met Gala, because of those women. They have impacted my style, my beliefs, and my outlook on the world. They have made me who I am today. If fashion is about looking forward towards the future, then personal style is all about looking back. I count myself lucky to be looking back at them. Happy Mother’s Day from STITCH.