In realms of the latest events, we all realized that learning from the past, filled with mistakes of humanity, can be the way to a better future. Alright then, it was a rather obvious lesson, and shame on us we haven’t learned it earlier. However, those pages of the history are not only filled with terrifying, bloody stories that as much as possible we shall avoid in the present and the future, it was also filled with a graceful, mindful approach towards clothing and appearance. Here, a little disclaimer, I do not call all women to put back on corsets, even though designers often find inspiration in the Victorian era. No, in this post, I would rather draw inspiration from the mid-century, where the whole fashion revolution that started with Coco Chanel’s straight, corset-less dresses, continued.
I believe personality, those attractive traits we admire or secretly envy in other people, developed and built upon a few interests, ideas and activities. One’s style is much more intriguing when it is mixed. One’s house tells more appealing stories of the owner if it contains, not clutter, but meaningful trophies, and thoughtfully chosen items. One’s character blooms in the environment of experiments, failures and achievements in various areas. After all, self-labelling deprives one of the possibilities to expand and perhaps to discover better, deeper, that also makes more sense for one’s life that appealing labels did at first.
A well-curated wardrobe means each piece in it was picked with precise attention to details. There I speak not only about buttons or colours, I want to focus on something that stands beyond appearance - the life purpose. A few days ago, I had put aside a pile of clothes to bring to the donation centre and consignment store. The pile included well made, quality pieces that, however, had never added value into my life, or into my wardrobe.
“Andre, let’s go outside! We will smell raindrop touches on lilac flowers.” I dug my nose into the mosquito net of the wide-open window. The rain that was whipping the soil for the last three hours almost stopped. I looked as thin sunrays tried to break through clouds and couldn’t hold the buzz inside my body. Trees and grass bathing in soft lights were emerald green. The apple tree we recently planted in the backyard half lost its blooming flowers and seemed to be someone who just ran away from a barber, without completing its haircut. I didn’t mind. The tree represented the transition between ended spring and the upcoming summer.