One evening, as I was preparing to attend a networking event, I faintly asked myself, “What the hell am I going to wear?” I began to creep through my closet like a predator on the prowl for its prey. With all of the items I possessed, I only came up with three options and two of those options no longer fit (imagine stressed emoji here). Nevertheless, I got all dolled up and had a great time at the event.
Upon returning home, I took another good look at my closet. Truthfully, I had not done so in a while. Then it came to me like an epiphany: I didn’t like my clothes. The irony of this statement hit me like a ton of bricks being that I write for a style blog. The deeper meaning behind “I didn’t like my clothes” was simply that my personal style had changed. The items I owned no longer represented how I viewed myself.
Midway 2016, I experienced a HUGE shift in my personal growth. I had a big-ass revelation that I had been selling myself short and that I was too talented for my current situation. I made some major changes, took some huge risks and got a tattoo. I took a leap of faith and set out to accomplish some lifelong goals and dreams. This journey is still fresh for me. I’ve realized that in just a few months, a person can change a great deal.
As I changed, my style changed. My previous look represented someone who acquiesced to the social standards of my environment. I realized that I suppressed my inner creative rebel. I dressed to impress others and according to the code. This code was killing my natural coolness. I allowed my environment to suppress my authenticity. Having a new found appreciation for my uniqueness, I needed to express that through my sense of style. My brand had changed and I had to do something about it. Style is a way of communicating who you are without saying a word. Tell the truth about yourself. It was time for me to rediscover my truth. It started with getting rid of old things that did not represent the new me.
One Saturday, I got all the way up and attacked my closet like it had talked about my momma. Clothes were flying everywhere. It was a battle. It was mayhem. I was victorious. Someone could have handed me a championship belt and I would have strutted around asking people if they could smell what I was cooking. Upon completion of my victory dance, I gathered up my clothes and donated them to a local charity. It was important to me to use my purging to be a blessing to someone else. Giving is a rewarding experience.
I had given away about 80% of my closet. Anxiety consumed me initially, but then I saw this as an opportunity to rebuild my wardrobe with the attitude that less is more. I am making a decision to exercise quality over quantity and I could not be happier.
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