Change of a Dress

Recently, as luck and life would have it, I returned to my former career in a part time capacity. Initially I experienced apprehension and doubt. Actually, the truth is I more or less had a temper tantrum about having to add one more set of obligations to my existing laundry list of goals and responsibilities. And so I dreaded it... at first.

But then something interesting, no, magical happened as I began to get ready for work outside the home. My spirits began to lift as I applied my make-up with expert precision. "Like ridin' a bike," I drawled to myself as I gleefully indulged in my love of cosmetics. I artfully applied actual foundation and concealer then proceeded to pencil, shadow and bronze in some features. "Office chic!" I exclaimed to no one in particular. Armed with lipliner and a new gloss my revitalization was unfolding with the greatest of ease. Soon I was shaking out my freshly hot-rolled locks, spritzing on perfume (Jo Malone's Orange Blossom, very light for work) and, wait for it, even choosing accessories!

Finally, I slipped into my perfectly pressed little black suit. It didn't fit like a glove, more of a loose mitten. But I implore of you, isn't it better to try something on one hasn't worn for ages and find there is room to spare? Hell, yeah! So I cinched the whole thing in with an au currant wide patent belt, slid into my wedge-heeled, round-toed, shiny black pumps with buckle detail and sashayed downstairs to show off my svelte new self. I admit it, I felt fabulous, as though I could take on the world and didn't need an extra cup of coffee to do so. My husband planted a big kiss on me, "Look at you, skinny-minnie," he said. My five-year-old daughter agreed I looked "super fancy!"

I felt fantastic all day long. The time I actually spent at work was refreshing, but in no way earth-shaking. It was really just another day at work. I concluded my new-found confidence was directly related to my vamped-up personal appearance and the proverbial "breather" from my regular routine at home.  

Later I had a thought: If we never have a second chance to make a first impression, then what impression are we making on our children by letting them see us only in our bathrobes and sweatpants? That we're not worth the time it takes to look and feel not even our best, but at the very least presentable? That they are not worth us feeling worthy in their presence? We're not paying attention- to ourselves or their perception of us. At least I admit I wasn't. Not enough anyway. There's a fine line between comfy or practical and just plain slobby. 

I know myself well enough to know that if I don't feel good about how I look, then my mood suffers and in the end my kids pay for it. I know I won't be able to pull off hot-mama-tastic everyday of my life, but it's something I can work on. Why? Well, as the marketing people at L'oreal pointed out, "Because I'm worth it!" And so are my kids.    

In My Shoes

I love shoes. The perfect pair all merchandised up in a fancy boutique has been known to trigger some fairly strong reactions in me; from child-like joy, ie.) prancing around the shoe store in the perfect leopard print, peep-toe stiletto sling-backs with a slight platform; to utter despair at the sheer unattainable exclusivity of a certain pair of fringed and fabulous satin, scarlet-soled Louboutins. I wanted to cry, but didn't because I know one day they will be mine. 

I don't love shoes just for their obvious beauty. They are like sculptural, wearable art to me and which ones I choose really helps to paint a picture in my mind and captures the essence of the event to which I wore them. Also, shoes complete an outfit in a way nothing else can. Shoes can can take a simple black pencil skirt from zero to sexy in about 10 seconds flat. Maybe the most important thing to love about our shoes is the way they make us feel. Confident. And confidence is one style that never, ever goes out of fashion.

It seems my shoes of late have been doing little to build my own confidence. After a stint as a stay-at-home mother I have a whole new set of footwear- sneakers, Uggs, flip flops and gumboots. Practical, practical, practical in stark contrast to my beauties lovingly stored in stacked, labeled boxes. Even the shoes I once wore to work allowed for a little sassiness. I could look down in the middle of a drab work day and have a little hit of fabulousness. Not so with the "mom shoes."

Now I am at a cross roads in my life... yet again, ladies. Do I want to spend all my time raising kids and wearing runners and feeling in my deepest heart of hearts a wee bit unfulfilled? It pains me to admit that, it really does. Or do I want to take a step back from that world, put my heels back on and go for it? Do I want my children to reflect on their own childhoods and say: "My mum was always there for us?" or, "My mum showed me how to follow my dreams by following her own?"

It's a big decision. All I know is I am on a journey and I am getting to know myself. And you can never really know me unless you've been In My Shoes... whichever pair they may be.

Playing Dress-Up

I am at a point in my life where I need to re-evaluate... well... pretty much everything. Ten years of togetherness with my beloved, two babies and several career changes later, (the latest stint being that of a full-time mother) my wardrobe looks a little like Cinderella's.  If my closet were a metaphor for my life it would definitely scream "I'm a girl who puts everyone and everything ahead of myself." My goal is to put myself back on the list. I intend to step out more often feeling like myself.

It goes without saying that marriage and especially children can really cramp a gal's style. If you really, really love cashmere, are you going to wear it around your two-year-old boy? Probably not, unless you have a diverse collection of cashmere and one sweater splattered with mud or smeared with ketchup isn't a big deal to you. Sometimes, and I say this most begrudgingly, we must be practical. Still, I think I may be crossing the line into practicality so often nowadays that I've lost sight of that girl on the other side. The one who would never consider yoga pants an option unless, indeed, she was about to actually practice yoga. Hmmm... now what?

I remember playing dress-up as a little girl and knowing exactly who I wanted to be. I would twirl around in a fluffy skirt and my mother's heels, covered in jewellery and delight in the complete knowingness that I would one day be a ballerina, or fashion designer, or school teacher. It has been a really long time since I twirled around in delight and knew anything for certain.

It's time for me to play dress-up once again, use my imagination, see what inspires me and who I want to be. Right now I am not sure exactly who that is. Luckily, the world is my boutique and I have plenty of time to shop around.