Let’s start with the positive. I’ve been growing out my hair for about a year (looking for a fresh start), and had been avoiding all color play because I wasn’t sure how it would look with 6-inch roots. Well, I finally caved and washed in a hint of pastel for a few days. The results were like Neapolitan ice cream, with soft strawberry ends and a mix of vanilla highlights and natural browns on top, and confirmed my theory that pink hair to any degree can make me ridiculously happy.
I’m also braving the oh-so-scary bare midriff territory – and finding it much less intimidating with barely cropped tops and higher waist bottoms. An extra layer of coverage – something as minimal as a vest – comes in handy in case my plans for the day involve sitting down or otherwise bending in unflattering ways. No one needs to see that.
In fact, I was generally quite happy with this outfit…
The point of question is in the footwear. Now, I don’t care that people might find them vulgar, unsophisticated, or a bit cliché. I’ve already expressed my love for giant shoes. I am addicted to the sense of authority and power that comes with sauntering around at a towering 5’6″. On a day-to-day basis I put my shoes to work, and when I am walking two miles over brick and cobblestone, likely running late on top of it, I really can’t be bothered by the silly opinion that a single-soled pump would create a more streamlined look. Big shoes are my thing.
With their extra-large platform and sturdy heel, this pair has been my standby; so I’m used to smiling politely at comments from strangers and pretending not to notice the stares or entirely unsubtle attempts at sneaking pictures. On this particular day, however, things felt more hostile and aggressive – from hotel doormen who made no attempt to hide their snickering whispers, to construction workers expecting me to stop and entertain their stories of hair metal bands. When a strung-out homeless woman tried to pick a fight because it was easy to single me out from the crowd as “that bitch in those damn shoes,” it was the final straw.
I’m quiet and awkwardly shy, and the way I present myself often goes directly against this nature. I don’t mind so much if my appearance speaks more loudly than I do; but when a single piece makes such a statement that it drowns me out entirely, it deserves consideration.
No, I’m not about to retire the shoes, but the experience did bring on some reflection about who we dress for and why. How much do you let the reactions of strangers affect your fashion choices?