Alas, faux pas

Fashion is the one you aim to impress, the one you dress up for every morning, whether you like it or not.

Is this hot? Is this not? What have I bought?

When I was young, my love for Fashion was unconditional. I then thought, “This is it”. But the feeling, sadly, wasn’t mutual. It was a one-way street with all the signs that we weren’t meant to be. Fashion is too moody, too fickle, to love me beyond seasons, colours and trends. One faux pas and I’d be at the bottom of the list, trying to scramble back up, armed with the best of my wardrobe.

Constant critiques and the stress to impress caused a rift; Fashion and I eventually split. We still remain friends and we’re better off this way, long distance, no strings attached, zero commitment. Now that I’ve moved on, I feel lighter, I feel free. I wear what I like and still maybe hear a compliment or two because, as double standards go, when you’re a writer and happen to dress well, it’s easy, you’re comfortably under the radar and praised when you look like you know what you’re doing.

At a safe distance, I watch from the wings.

Fashion, be kind, let those who revere you not be in doubt, show them the way.