Eastern Thoughts Western Wear

Maybe it's time to re-examine your relationship with inanimate objects when you feel you just might die if you don't have something. When I stumbled upon this dress in Goodwill, I'm not gonna lie, my blood pressure rose, my throat tightened. If there was a giant rip, or it didn't fit, or anything prevented me from owning this garment, I was going to put on a wedding dress, recite nursery rhymes and walk into traffic. 

Cacti? Lassos? Longhorns? A vintage label reading "Ida Clair"??? This dress maaaay be my soul if my soul was clothing. 

CLEARLY this dress was put here by the Gods for ME. THE Texas girl who just happens to be rummaging through the jam packed racks of garments at the Goodwill in West Hollywood. The vintage lover, the anything-that-has-to-do-with-Texas lover. Me, me, me!!!

I'm pretty sure if I saw this dress on someone else, say a gal (or guy... who's judging?) who isn't from Texas or who didn't love vintage, shameful thoughts might pass through my mind. Those of the envious variety. Those of the entitled variety. "I should be the one sporting that fine, fine, western garment...that bitch has probably never ever SEEN a real lasso!"

Shameful, shameful thoughts. 

I've observed others experiencing this "Fashion Identity Crisis". Let me clarify: I'm not talking about your classic identity crisis in the sense of you don't know who you are fashion-wise: 

"I'm a total trend whore, betch!!" 

"I'm a boho rocker babe!"

"I'm a brand slave and I'm judging you."

"I'm Sporty Spice!" 

I'm talking about the identity crisis where you think you know who you are fashion wise. Like you know so hardcore who you are that no one else can rock your style. You sport a broach as a bow tie or wear a tie as a belt (don't do that, ew) and then you see it at Urban Outfitters and you Hulk out with rage. 

"Hulk no trendy! You take Hulk's idea! Hulk no serve up funky accessory irony if teenie-boppers do!"

Here's the thing. And this is where you might get up in arms.....

Our style has nothing to do with who we are. 

Who we really are. Like who we ARE are. Okay you get it. 

Neither does the music we listen to. Neither do the shows we choose to watch or the books we read. Sure all these things are extensions of our sesibilities and tastes, but people with GREAT taste can still be total dick holes. And people with the worst taste -like Teva's with socks taste- can have hearts of gold. And we need to remind ourselves of that sometimes. 

Not to go all Echkart Tolle on your ass, but I've come to understand we find ourselves irritated when  something we feel we've discovered becomes trendy, because some part of our brain feels like it's a part of us. When everyone else starts doing the things that helped define us, that thing gets weakened and taken away. And our egos hate it. 

{Glasses: Similar}

{Dress: Thrifted Vintage}

{Bag: Thrifted Vintage}

{Shoes: Cole Haan (also amazing)}

{Headband: Similar}