Happy Birthday to my love!
it’s been a while
I really adore Blake Lively.
Through my years on the fashion merry go round I discovered something that surprised me— if you really want to hide, go bold. I’m actually a very shy person at heart. Someone who was more comfortable hiding behind my mom’s skirt than twirling in the center of the ring. Yet, somehow, I chose the most public of lives. Suddenly I was twirling, and it felt so unnatural. The best way to blend, to feel safe in my discomfort, was to act like I was meant to be there. To find a costume, to play a character, to find the best mask I could so I was able to do the dance.
For said costume, my fairy godmother was the electric, Eric Daman. The greatest teacher an inhibited teenager could play apprentice to, for he himself was actually quite shy behind all his beautifully woven nerve.
I witnessed the power of something as simple as a bold piece of clothing. The wave of reaction that comes from mixing patterns, textures, colors, even metals that traditionally isn’t accepted as norm. When the rules were eliminated, there was nothing but possibility. And people surprisingly celebrated the lesser charted territory being explored. Week after week, I watched Eric push the limits with each character— Upper East Side to Brooklyn. I not only watched, but I was able to experiment myself, yet I was afforded the odd advantage of experimenting as someone else— as a socialite who had earned the notoriety to take great fashion risks. So if I made a mistake, it wasn’t mine to own, but hers, Serena’s. Through this, I saw how much more rewarding it was to paint oneself in the more daring threads. I became more and more comfortable adopting a riskier sense of dress in my own life. Sometimes to my own demise (*See Kid’s Choice Awards 2005, dear god help me), but sometimes, it paid off.
So the real discovery for me here was that the greatest mask, is risk.
If you wear risk, the world will notice your clothing first, not you. You are the character behind it and thus you get to adopt all of it’s eccentricities, all of its detail, all of it’s courage, even if those aren’t the threads you feel naturally woven of. And soon, all that rubs off, it feels as though it weaves itself within you. The courage of the piece becomes your own. You, the wearer, become the eye catcher, even in more the simple of designs. For it was never the clothing at all, but the confidence in the statement. It was you all along that had the power. The clothes were simply the mask which let your cajones arise.
…You know what I mean.