“There is never a sudden revelation, a complete and tidy explanation for why it happened, or why it ends, or why or who you are. You want one and I want one, but there isn’t one. It comes in bits and pieces, and you stitch them together wherever they fit, and when you are done you hold yourself up, and still there are holes and you are a rag doll, invented, Imperfect. And yet you are all that you have, so you must be Enough.” - Marya Hornbacher
I just want to seriously say that my blogging is probably going to change. Post-CatLadySoul tumblr actualities means more about me and less about dealing with bullshit. I gave a lot of myself in every medium and made myself really approachable and now I want it to be more about me now. And by that I mean like, not about an image I present, not all outfits.... my personal style is kind of whatever now anyway. I want to talk about fashion. The things about fashion that make me fall in love with aesthetics. The things that influence me and ground me and elevate me, and not the surface effects. My personal aesthetics can go whatever somewhere else. It's more about the ritual of it to me right now than the outcome. I am obsessed with rituals.
Take for example, the ritual of getting dressed to go out. Since depression, I have cute clothes and wonderful things to share, but I mostly wear all black, cashmere, big sweaters, Whatever Outfits, and just focus on my makeup. I can pull together a nice outfit blindfolded simply because my closet at my dorm is well edited to the point that it's kind of impossible to fuck up (unless you really insist on wearing slob clothes, which I do, and which is why they have their own drawer so I don't have to face my Cute Clothes) but I usually only have the energy to do so much before I wanna just crawl back to bed and watch Breaking Bad, and lipstick is easier to put on than Comme des Garcons. Privileged Depression Fashion Problems, but you know, I work hard for my money when I'm not depressed. Anyway. When I get dressed now, I zero in on my face and hair because they are the things I see first and most in reflective surfaces, and my black outfits are just there for mood. I just want to see Me now. Remind myself I'm still here.
So this weekend I had my webcam running pretty much all the time as I got ready to go out, just because #narcissism. My makeup process can take anywhere from 5 minutes and out the door to 3 hours, depending on glitter, and effort, and change in plans, and also my Netflix queue. I am just endlessly amused at the fact that I can change my appearance so thoroughly using mica and powder and lighting, you know? I find pleasure in the transformation and the exploration of myself. Clothes don't hold much interest to me in the transformation category at the moment because I don't have the money to spend on the clothes I want anyway, and I'm just Bored, so now my obsession has gone straight to makeup. And it's more fun, because you can do a lot with so little, and it's easier to fuck up, which also means it's easier to discover new things. And I enjoy that a lot. The concentration and skill required to get a perfectly even cat eye, the artistry of blending scarily dark pigmented shadows so you don't look like a clown, obsessively checking for fallout, for unblended areas, for bleeding of lip color, for symmetry. You're constantly busy creating this image, and it makes everything else fall away and that is just such a nice safe haven you know?
“Busy the body, so the mind can be free” - Wade
|Jean-Paul Sarte, No Exit|
Peter Greenaway, The Pillow Book, 1996.
|Things I feel a real connection with at the moment:|
This is primarily a continuation of a text post I did on girlmonstering you can still read here.
The storm is making the lights flicker so I've got to go pack an evacuation bag. Hope you're all safe and whole. - Arabelle