love yourself

I believe in the power of dressing up.

I often get comments like, “why are you always so gussied up?” and “what’s the occasion?” and my answer is always the same: “If I don’t look good, I don’t feel good. And if I don’t feel good, nothing good happens.” It’s because I need to knock my own socks off before I do the same to anyone else. Worn.

Let’s just say if I’m going to make an impact on life, it’s going to be a head on collision and not a ding. And if there’s going to be trauma either way, I want to at least be able to say I’ve lived. I want to be memorable. And you just can’t do that without a grand costume.

It’s like this: How many times have you dressed up and felt great? For me, it’s every damn time. Which is why I always dress up. It doesn’t get old with me. Why would it? Feeling great never gets old. I used to wear sweatpants and jeans. A LOT. And Uggs. Those modern day slippers that scream, “Guess who doesn’t give a f***?!”

While I understand their purpose and have owned a few pairs myself (and I secretly ADORE them), UGG’s, Tom’s and other lazy shoes do absolutely nothing for us. Maybe they give us REALLY flat feet, and some comfort, but that’s it. Heels give you bunions. Courage. Calf muscles. Grace. Beauty. CONFIDENCE. Bunions I can live with. Worn.

Just say no to the average stuff.

Jeans with T’s, sweatpants, or anything cheap and trendy (yes those words are interchangeable) don’t make the kind of statement you’re looking for. That stuff is not style. Style is intentional. Style is curated like art. Style is individual. You develop it, like yourself, over time. Style feels GOOD.

What works are investment pieces:

Manolo’s. Louboutin’s. Gucci. Chanel. Oh MY!

Tutu’s. Mini skirts. Classy silk blouses…did I mention tutu’s?

All of it, all of it to be worn to the store, to pick up kids, to take out the trash.

Let’s get this straight because I don’t want to confuse you. And I don’t ever want you to feel like I’m not being real with you. I’m not rich. As a matter of fact, I would even go so far as to say I’m poor. But you wouldn’t know it by looking at me and that is because style is not about having money. It’s about having creativity, a pinch of integrity and a dash of class. It is the recipe for living a good life. If you’re urban, you can shop at some of the greatest consignment shops in town and also frequent thrift. If you’re not, there are plenty of online options: Etsy, EBay and the like. Worn.

This is how I keep myself from looking like everyone else—being one of a kind. Memorable. A diamond in the rough. A realdiamond, too. And I also want to add that this type of shopping means more. It’s the art of the find. The score. Remember, we are curating, not consuming—so take your time. Make it a ritual. You will not find your true self hidden among the racks of H&M or Forever 21 because that is all about building an empire of lemmings. We are more creative than that.

A note on shoes: I don’t buy them often. In fact, I rarely buy them. But only because I have the same pairs of high end shoes that I have been caring for, for YEARS. My Manolo’s are almost three years old. My Louboutin’s are seven. I simply get them re-soled for $20 each year and they are brand new.

Dressing up like it’s normal is how I take care of myself.

Dressing up is what makes me a woman. This is what I consistently do so I can feel like I am not only on top of my game, but that I am the game. I make the rules, and others play by them–But only when I feel good by looking good. If I can dress, every single day, like I am going to a party, then life will literally be that party. When you dress awesome, you feel awesome. And everyone around you will love you for it. People will talk to you more. You ARE the conversation piece. You are the thing that makes everything LESS awkward. You’re the relief, the icebreaker, the prevention of “let’s play charades!” Who doesn’t Love THAT? Hell, even the gas station attendant dude said to me, weeks ago, “Oh hey, is that Missoni?” He was referring to my sweater, which is huge and gorgeous and accented by magenta fox fur. I told him, “No. I believe it is handmade. There are no tags anywhere and I got it at an estate sale for $65, five years ago.” And now he pumps my gas before anyone else. We talk about clothes each time. Great guy!

Take something simple. The T-Shirt for example. By tucking it in to the bottom half of a ball gown, you have turned your life into a soiree. And THEN go to the grocery store. See? This just helps me live better. I once went to a kids soccer game like this. No regrets from me.

The magic is in the small things too.

Another way I keep this girlie-girl on the up and up is by treating myself. Usually this happens on Sundays. I put on a mud mask, hop into the tub and HIDE. My husband does his best to keep the kids out of the only bathroom in the house and to be honest, it doesn’t work for very long. I usually have a small guest jump in, uninvited (the same kid that TAKES up precious space in our bed at night). It’s inevitable— but you’ve got to try.

So let’s move this ship forward by agreeing that we can only reclaim the woman screaming to get out from inside your diaper bag purse by taking a collective vow:

“I hereby solemnly swear to toss teething rings that double as necklaces, to wear push up bras that don’t come unhinged to pop a boob out (unless it’s for your husband) and to always, always, choose heels over flip flops.” Worn.

Generate a capsule wardrobe. Buy only the finest underwear (see why here). Elevate yourself with some dead sexy heels. Get caught in the rain—let yourself get soaked, just like they do in the movies. Put mascara on (remember to do both eyes) AND lipstick and then take a walk. Feel better already? I do too!

We are foxy ladies. We are hot goddesses. We are mad-sexy mavens. We are the ultimate MILF in sheeps clothing. Hear us roar!

One last thing.

This isn’t about looking good for anyone else but you. We aren’t pin up dolls. We aren’t sex kittens (even though we all know how well we can make ourselves purr). We are made whole by this genius of getting dressed up. We’re not made whole by what other men (even our own) think of us, but what WE think of ourselves. Worn.

Under the surface of this outfit lies skin and beyond that are a whole lotta feelings. Feelings that include the days where I didn’t feel great and I sure didn’t look great. Back then, I had to retrain my thinking around something that only appeared to be surface level: clothing. I started to realize something: If what I wore on the outside could transform how I truly felt on the inside, then I would be cured. So I tried it. Again and again. And even on some days when I’m not so sure, I put on that tutu and I just shine. My love for myself reaches new heights like this–and I may never come down.

Self care is up to you. How you feel is up to you. Don’t put it on anyone else to make you feel a certain way. Start here, and let it get out of control! And let it get contagious—get your girlfriends on board. Let’s all look and FEEL gorgeous together. Are you ready? I’ll be looking for you on the town. Worn.

With Love,

So Called Mom

Next post: The Benefits of a Good Fight!