Dressing for me

In New York, I’m a hipster, styled to impress

The soul of San Diego’s, fashions freedom in dress

Mismatched  patterns, sheik but true

Eclectically honest, no mirrored preview

The freedom to dress, without thought for thread’s worth

Gems hung for peace, wears dug from the earth

Cosmetics deserted, brought without reason

No concealer for flaws, beauty seen without treason

Clothes donned in comfort, style comes second

West coast gifts my soul with an outward expression

New York you are home, yet I feel pressed to conform

Eyes judge my passing,  worth what I adorn

 


 

A holiday dedicated to peace. A lifestyle cleanse. San Diego, you have reinvigorated dreams, inspired art and prompted change.

California, you are my second home.

 

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8 thoughts on “Dressing for me

  1. Hippsters in French are called “Bobos” ( Bohemian Bourgeois) : Kind of the same, kind of not. The expression was born in Paris in the 2nd part of the 90’s. I love the evoloution, the lives and deaths of Citadine Tribes 🙂

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  2. pixieannie

    Marvellous. I do believe your clothes are the twins of what can be found in my wardrobe. I’m told I’m eccentric and I embrace that praise. On the other hand, I’m often told that I look like a Romanian Gypsy…..I’d rather that than look like a replica of a high street manikin. You have great style.

    When I visited New York a few years ago, I was photographed, a lot. People stopped me in the street to ask about my socks and how I found the courage to dress in such a way. I’d never thought that I needed courage, just a smile.

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    1. What a beautiful comment. Eccentric, quirky and odd should be celebrated more. The word “normal” is slightly offensive. Thanks for taking the time to dissect my blog and for sharing my love for diversity in not just culture but fashion

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      1. pixieannie

        One of the best compliments I ever had was, ‘are you actually going outside dressed like that?’ All the more reason to do so. Don’t get me wrong though, I’ve made mistakes along the way and had some disasters. My vintage bloomers almost evaporated due to their age and left me feeling somewhat insecure but that’s just a state of mind. Then I lost my favourite tatty hat and while everyone else celebrated its demise, I mourned its loss. It was pretty shabby and quite honestly in need of some work but it made me happy. I’m still looking for it.

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