In my very first conversation with Carly, we talked about how some people scoff when we tell them what we do for a living. Writing about style, working with women on their wardrobes, and hiring yourself out for personal shopping strike many people as a shallow, frivolous, even extravagant group of activities. But just like me, Carly said she has gotten a hug from EVERY client she’s worked with because at the end of the session, that woman feels more confident, more stylish, and more like herself. That woman feels braver and more empowered. She has spent time and energy tackling an aspect of her self-presentation that she felt wasn’t quite right, and having done so has learned about her body and her self. We both agreed that we love our jobs because we help women feel like better, stronger versions of themselves. The fashion and style aspect is loads of fun, sure, but at the heart of the matter are self-esteem, pride, self-awareness, and security.
Originally posted 2014-07-10 06:37:07.
When I was in high school, my dear friend Emily would address me by saying, “Hey, beautiful!” It always unnerved me back then, though I would never have been able to articulate why. With my 20-20 hindsight, however, I can quite easily tell you why: I didn’t believe I was beautiful.
I never mentioned this to Emily, of course, because sheesh, how rude would THAT be. And so she kept doing it. And so I kept cringing. But eventually the cringing lessened, and then subsided completely. And on a day to day basis, I may still struggle to believe that I’m beautiful. But what I DO believe is that Emily thinks I’m beautiful. I believe that every day, and it is meaningful and helpful and a generous gift for her to have given me.
Originally posted 2014-04-28 06:36:21.
Before I became interested in dressing and style, I avoided thinking about my body. At all costs. I didn’t look in the mirror if I didn’t have to, didn’t focus much energy or attention on how my outfits interacted with my figure, and did my utmost to think about anything besides my own physicality. Because of this choice, the information I was given about my body came almost exclusively from external sources. And none of it was good news: I was chubby, disproportionate, my breasts were too small and my hips were too big, my arms were flabby and so was my stomach. Virtually all of this information was comparative: I was flabby compared to Gwyneth Paltrow, my breasts were too small compared to Victoria’s Secret models … you know the drill. I studiously ignored my body, hoping its perceived inadequacies would diminish if I pretended I was a brain in a jar. And yet this comparative information still crept in and made me feel inadequate.
Originally posted 2013-09-16 06:02:50.