Worn|| Tulle the Point

If you had told me five years ago, I would be having another crisis of personal style because my days would be spent in comfy clothes that hide baby puke, I wouldn’t have believed you, yet, here we are.

When our daughter told us she was pregnant, I happily volunteered to watch our grandson during the day when she went back to work. I’m over the moon that I get to spend so much quality time with him. But just when I pulled myself out of a style rut that comes with being a stay-at-home to a young kiddo, my days are now spent taking care of the cutest 5-month-old ever. And that means comfortable and spit-up resistant. It also means that I relish the chance to dress up a little whenever possible.

Saturday we were lucky enough to help a friend celebrate his 5oth birthday. Is pink tulle kind of over the top? Absolutely. Did I wear it anyway? Also, absolutely.

I tried to tone it down by adding a puffer vest and sneakers. I like the way it turned out.

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Generation Inspiration

I’ve had a pair of vegan leather- pleather for all the GenXers in the crowd- on my Pinterest board for a few years. I’ve had them in various online shopping carts for months. For whatever reason, I couldn’t click buy. Maybe it was the thrifting gods whispering “we got you” in my ear. But, a few months ago I went thrifting with my daughter, and there they were. The perfect size, exactly what I was looking for, and only 7.99.

I will confess that most days I wear a uniform that consists of leggings and a sweater. If I’m feeling fancy, I swap out the leggings for a pair of jeans. I’m trying to force myself out of this rut. What’s the point in buying things I love if I never wear them?

First, I styled them in the way I would most likely wear them- blouse, trench, and heels. Classic and appropriate for most occasions, although I would probably swap out the stilettos for something with a chunky heel if I was headed out for the day with my 8-year-old.

Then I got some fit inspo from the Tik Tok generation. This time I paired them with a chunky sweater, a hat, and my Air Force 1s. I gotta say the kids are alright because I really like this!

Worn||Coming of Age

Recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about aging. Living through a pandemic gives the saying “growing old isn’t guaranteed”, a certain poignancy I hadn’t considered. However, knowing what a gift growing old is doesn’t make it easier to accept. Being nearly 50 in a culture that is youth-obsessed is hard. And as much as I wouldn’t want to be 20, or even 30, for all of the money in the world, I can’t help constantly comparing myself to the images we’re inundated with on social media. I find myself checking the mirror daily for a wrinkle that wasn’t there the day before. Being discouraged because I now have to work out twice as hard to get half the results that used to happen with very little effort. Even my eyebrows are sprouting gray hair. It’s honestly rude at this point! I vacillate between feeling like my life is over and wanting to do all of the things before I run out of time…or energy.

Worn|| Coming of Age

I remember my mom telling me that her 30s were the decade she had the most fun, her 40s were the decade that she really got to enjoy being a mom, and her 50s were the decade where she fully came into her own. I guess there’s something to the idea that once no one is checking for you(as the kids say!), you’re free to do exactly what you damn well, please. I’m working on shifting my focus from the things I feel have passed me by. Instead, choosing to pursue the things that I’m currently passionate about. When I think about all that I’m capable of I’m excited to step into the next decade.

Worn || Fruit Stripe

LulaRoe swept through my mom community like a tidal wave. One minute I’d never heard of it and five minutes later I was joining the cult of buttery leggings. Postpartum 2015 was a very strange time, friends. I was never a fanatic but I did manage to score a few pairs of those super soft leggings. They were the closest thing to wearing pajamas while still being “presentable” for the public. Although, one could ask if grown-ups being clad in the adult equivalent of Garanimals is really presentable for public consumption. But, that’s a conversation for another time.

Like almost everyone I know, I watched LuLaRich on Amazon Prime to get the behind-the-scenes story on how awful this company is. It was fascinating! I’ve long since donated my LulaRoe leggings and despite the stories online detailing how much of the inventory of former sellers ended up at thrift stores across the country, I’ve never actually seen it in any of my thrifting trips. Last week on the hunt for a few new sweaters, I spotted a brightly colored sleeve among the racks at my local Goodwill. I knew it was coming home with me. I was shocked to see that it was LuLaRoe! The quality was great and the stripes actually lined up. It was a LuLaCorn!

Cardigan- LuLaRoe- Thrifted similar one here || Oxford Button Down- Old Navy- Thrifted similar one here|| Jeans- Levi’s Jeans- here ||Booties- old as hell but similar ones here

*links are affiliate and I will receive a small commission if you choose to shop with them.*

Worn|| It's A Wrap

Summer is officially over. I’m not sorry to see the heat go but that doesn’t mean that I’m in a hurry to put away all of my favorite summer dresses and skirts.

I bought this skirt at a local shop and I haven’t given it much love until this summer. I consider it my good luck skirt since I was wearing it the day I ran into Leslie Odoms Jr (yes, that LOJ!) on a sidewalk in downtown Cincinnati, but for whatever reason, I hardly ever wore it until this summer. The lightweight silk skirt paired with a tank top or a plain white t-shirt was an easy way for me to look put together in 10 minutes.

Today I when I spied my husband’s shirt on the ironing board, I remembered how I used to be much more adventurous with mixing patterns and styles when getting dressed. And, honestly, wearing your partner’s shirt all day is a top-notch way to make you feel……you get the point. I’d go into more detail but our kids read these blog posts and I don’t want to gross them out! Anyway, his gingham button-down paired with this skirt and my favorite boots were perfect for an early fall day outfit.

And, Another One

I’m not a person who loves celebrating my birthday. It’s been a time when I usually allow myself to fall into a depression and start ruminating over all of the things I’m not. But, this year something is different. I’ve noticed a small shift in mindset. I suspect all of the loss, sadness, and anxiety of the last few years has made me wildly grateful that I’ve survived. Instead of wallowing in the what-ifs, this year I’m thinking of all of the things in my life - my husband, our kids, our granddaughter, my friendships, therapy, group chats that make me laugh all day, oat milk lattes, noise-canceling headphones, Schitt’s Creek memes, strawberry ice cream- that make my heart happy. That make me infinitely grateful to see every single day.

I can’t promise the angst and ennui won’t return. I’m a GenXer, it’s what we do! But, today as I start my 48th trip around the sun, I’m embracing my life in this moment and celebrating all the good things!

Worn|| On Wednesdays We Wear Pink

::taps on mic:: Is this thing on? I know I’m a GenXer so being a slacker is in my blood, but I didn’t mean to take that long of a break!

Lately, much of my internet surfing has been giving me the same sort of message over and over. It basically says to stop doubting myself. It reminds me that there are people out here living my dream. The one I’ve been too terrified to pursue. It yells at me to believe in my own excellence as much as some people champion their mediocrity.

August is my birthday month. I usually greet it with about as much enthusiasm as one feels for rain on your wedding day(shout out to Alanis!), but this month what if I listened to all of those whispers I’ve been hearing in the universe. What if instead of shrugging them off as flights of fancy, I embraced them. I may not be big on celebrating my birthday but this month, the one in which I’ll begin yet another trek around the sun, I’m gifting myself grace and going all in! I’m going to lean into all of the things I’ve wanted to do and take baby steps into becoming the woman I want to be. I’m going all-in on all of the uniquely wonderful things I bring to the table.

As of late, I’ve been working on countering all of the negative self-talk I bombard myself with daily. My usual response to hearing “there’s only one of you” would be “thank, God.” But, in this vast universe, there IS only one of me and that’s fucking amazing! All of this time I’ve been punishing myself for being imperfect while denying myself the absolute joy that lives in celebrating my humanity! I’m putting you on notice August, I’m coming for you!

Worn||A Well-Dressed Mess

Mother’s Day came and went this year without a post from me. It was the second one without my mom and in all honesty, I was unprepared for how hard it would hit me. Most of last year was spent in a haze of personal grief and collective mourning for all that we were losing almost daily. I was numb last year. This year I felt the weight of my own personal loss. Perhaps, I should say, I finally allowed myself to feel the weight of my loss.

Like lots of mothers and daughters, my mom and I had a complicated relationship. Sometimes we were so alike that most people would never notice how vast our differences were. And, I think I always believed those monumental differences meant that I would never be the daughter she was proud of. I always believed the times she voiced doubt about my choices or concern for the direction of my life it was judgment. I thought her interest in our commonalities was pressure for me to do those things the exact same way that she did. I never suspected that perhaps I was teaching her or that she was excited to see something she loved become something important to me.

I’ve been struggling in therapy a lot lately which is really how it goes. Every breakthrough is followed by a breakdown. Because growth can be as painful as it is powerful. Both awesome and terrifying. So, my therapist gave me homework. I had to write a letter to myself laying out all of the reasons why I’m not that broken person I was in my past. The girl I jokingly call, The Well Dressed Mess. The Bespoke Basketcase. The Fuck Up in the lovely Frock.

I won’t go into all the details I laid out in that letter but the one that is sticking with me and the one I’ve been unable to really say out loud is that I can’t be that old version of myself because I am my mother’s legacy.

In the few years before she died, we weren’t very close. Miscommunication and hurt feelings were at the root of it. But, I’d finally started to work past some of them. We started talking a little more. My visits weren’t so few and far between. Honestly, I thought we’d have more time. We didn’t. And I’ve carried so much guilt. Guilt that wouldn’t let me say that I miss her so much. Guilt that wouldn’t let me tell people how very much I loved her. And that guilt would never let me say that I can’t go back to being the well-dressed mess because it’s not who my mom raised me to be.

Whenever I was facing a conflict or a crisis, I could go to her. We’d have coffee and I would cry it out. She’d wipe my tears and rub my back. Saying, “I know….I know…it’s okay sweetie….” over and over until I was soothed. When I was ready to go back out into the world she’d give me a hug and whisper “give ‘em hell, Rae!” in my ear as I left.

So even when the fight to stay mentally healthy is incredibly difficult and all of the demons from my past are being kept at bay by the thinnest of razor wire, I will not be that person ever again because I’m starting to realize that I’m growing into the woman my mom always knew I was.

I’m still here mama, and I’m doing my damndest to give ‘em hell!

Worn || Nostalgia

I have to admit, I had these overalls in my cart for close to three months before I clicked purchase. The only thing I regret is waiting so long to buy them.

I’m not sure this is the most flattering item of clothing I own. Although, these days I’m defining “flattering” as more of a mantra than a strict rule of style. How can something that makes you feel playful and happy be unflattering? Here’s to remembering and honoring the 9-year-old me, spending a summer afternoon on a yellow bike named Marigold, coveralls, crooked ponytails, and unlaced sneakers before I knew or even cared about flattering or appropriate clothing.

And just in case you needed to hear it, buy the damn overalls!

Overalls: https://amzn.to/3dYU5sp For reference I’m wearing a Medium. They shrank slightly after washing and drying

Chucks: https://amzn.to/3dWlbAl

Top: https://bit.ly/3xp9cTH

Worn|| Rambling

For the first time in four years, I’m not living with a knot of anxiety in my soul. I’m a little lighter. There’s a tiny sliver of optimism that pops its head out every now and then.

Strangely, I’ve also been exhausted and really, really sad. It’s dawned on me that like a lot of us who have faced each day of the Trump administration braced for horror and new lows, I’ve been running on a mixture of rage and anxiety. Survival mode. The pandemic has just become another thing to “get through”. And now that one threat has been vanquished, I have space to grieve for the things that we’ve lost in this last year. The big things- babies being born, graduations, weddings, birthdays- and the smaller ones- Sunday brunch, afternoons at the art museum, spa days, and date nights- all gone for those of us who have been following orders to shelter at home. I used to think a lot about how absolutely normal and mundane my life was. The life of a middle-aged suburban housewife is only exciting when scripted by the execs at Bravo. I never would have guessed that the loss of “normal” would leave such a Grand Canyon-sized hole in not only how I perceive the world, but also in how I view myself. If my role as a wife and a mother is to comfort and care for my family and the ways in which I’ve done that are suddenly not accessible, then what is my purpose?

This long ramble is just to say I feel unmoored in this new normal. I think it’s part of grieving all that we have lost. And, if you’re feeling that way too, please know that you are not alone.