Why I’m Over Over-DressingThis week marks the start of our 10 day countdown to our Florida vacation – which means that, in between worrying about how we’ll survive an 8-hour flight with a toddler (And worrying even more about how we’ll survive the toddler jetlag at the other end…), I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about what the hell I’m going to wear on holiday.
This has actually proven to be a much trickier question to answer than would normally be the case. You see, I’ve always LOVED summer fashion: in fact, it’s my favourite season to dress for by far, mostly because it’s just so easy. I love the fact that, when the weather’s warm, I can wear whatever I want to wear, without having to worry about tights and coats and scarves and the like. I love the fact that I can break out all of my favourite dresses and skirts again, after a winter spent almost exclusively in jeans. Most of all, though, I’ve always loved summer holiday dressing in particular, because – for me, at least – it’s the perfect excuse to get dressed up.
Now, if you’ve been following this blog for a while now, you’ll already know that over-dressing is kind of my thing – or, at least, it was. I’ve spent most of my adult life complaining to anyone who’ll listen that there just aren’t enough opportunities to dress up any more, and fielding questions about whether or not I’m off to a wedding later – because, until recently, that would have been the only real reason behind whatever I happened to be wearing at the time.
over-dressing is kind of my thing – or, at least, it was.
“Ooh, lookit you, all dresssed up!” people would exclaim as I passed. “Where are you off to, then?” And, honestly? It would probably just be the post office. Or the mall, to buy even MOAR ridiculously inappropriate outfits. One time our neighbour asked me what I was up to when I was out walking the dog, and I was so confused, because, well, I was walking the dog? The dog I have here with me? The one I’m currently walking? It was only as I walked away that I realised I wasn’t the only one who was confused: because I was out walking my dog in a 50s-inspired prom dress and bright red lipstick, and my neighbour was probably wondering where on earth I was taking him. OK, I’d thrown on a pair of flats, as my only concession to practicality, but no matter how fond I was of telling people that flats were a great way to “dress down” an outfit, the fact remained: I legit looked like I was going to a wedding or something. But with a dog. No wonder the poor guy was confused…
At the time, of course, I didn’t really think about it like that. I knew I was hopelessly over-dressed most of the time, obviously, but I’d have defended that decision to the death, telling anyone who asked that this was how I wanted to dress, and nothing was going to stop me – least of all the fact that I have the kind of life which contains absolutely no opportunities to dress up. Like, EVER.
I wasn’t going to let that stop me, though: I wanted to wear prom dresses and pencil skirts, and a different pair of stilettos every day – so I did. And, of course, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, is there? People SHOULD be able to wear whatever they like: so if you’re a fellow over-dresser – or an under-dresser, or a whatever-the-hell-you-like-dresser – I’ll defend YOUR decision to the death, too. (I mean, I probably won’t, tbh. Not TO THE DEATH, anyway. I mean, I’ll think it’s pretty cool that you’re doing your thing, without worrying about all of the Judgy McJudgypants out there, but I draw the line at dying for someone else’s prom dress or whatever. You keep doing you, though!) It’s just… I don’t want to do it myself, any more. Over-dress, I mean. Because, somewhere along the line, I realised I’m just over it. I’m over over-dressing – and I don’t really see that changing any time soon.
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