It amazes me how much of my life I could tell you through my clothes. I seem to have a story to go with every piece I own.
I think that’s the beauty of fashion. It’s so much more than something to cover up our bodies with, it’s so much more than to express who we are or who we want to be, it’s more than just a design – it’s what we experience life in. Like an old friend, it comes along for the ride and is there til the end.
I got this jacket last winter. I bought it because it reminds me of a pimp from the 70’s (don’t ask me why that’s appealing but it is). After one wild night out last year, it came home battered and bruised and stained – much like its owner. But unlike it’s owner, a meat lovers pizza couldn’t fix it and although I’ve tried horribly to remove the stains, I should let it go but I love the jacket too much. I do still wear it – my sister will tell you I wear it too frequently considering the marks on it – but every time I look at them, I smile.