On my homepage I describe a moment when I was in 7th grade and hiding in the bathroom at school crying. I had tried to recreate some funky outfit I had seen in Harper’s Bazaar and I know without a doubt I probably looked like a clown or a K-Mart special. Shockingly enough, my friends made fun of me and I crumbled.
But I had been so proud of that outfit, even if it was tacky or out of the norm. When I left the house that day I felt great.
It doesn’t bother me at all that those kids crushed my soul that day because when my Dad came to pick me up, he quickly understood what was going on. He told me something that I truly didn’t understand until I became adult-ish. (Am I an adult now? Who knows.) He said if I wanted to dress different and be original people might not always understand it, so I just had to own it. I’m pretty sure he said, “If wearing this crazy shit makes you feel good, then by god, you better be like I am fabulous with my crazy shit on”.
So guess what.