I awake.

A breath spills into my lungs. A thought flickers through the corridors of my mind, whispering gratitude for the quiet certainty that I am, once again, alive.

I eat; bread without gluten, eggs without pepper, hummus stripped naked of its fatty sin.

I shower; my oat-infused, hypoallergenic soap. My almond-scented face wash.

And then, I dress. Dress to become.

But who am I today?

 

As we step beyond the safety of our home, into the chaos of the unknown world, we make a choice: What shall my “weapon” be today?

 

A big puffy fur coat that permits distance, parting the sea of bodies from mine within the subway? A pair of heels so agonizingly high, that pain itself becomes a reminder of being alive. A ring, perhaps, a promise to oneself, a whisper of my past, a hope for my future? A double-breasted blazer that makes everyone around me believe I truly am someone of great importance? Even to be naked is to be dressed in this world, for even absence is a statement.

 

The world sees what you wear before it hears what you say. 

 

It was this very idea that birthed this blog.

A blog not just about fashion, but about the philosophy of dressing, the psychology of the everyday performance we call life. Attempting to understand the unspoken manifesto worn across our bodies in a society that has swallowed identity, industrialized it, diluted it, turned it into something mass-produced and indistinct.

You and I, we are the same, yet we are so entirely, exquisitely different. I am, as you are, one of many. 

A soul adrift the sea of million others, indistinguishable yet undeniably distinct.

The choices we make, both consciously and subconsciously, matter.

Mine? 

I shall never be seen wearing sweatpants.

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