Clumsily dressed, baggy material, shapeless.
Far away from my past where freedom dressing saw me through long summers and fancy evenings.
She wore her clothes like pieces of art, proudly and particular. Thoughtful in choice yet careful not to be over the top. Her style not quite in tune with her personality but selected with her love of fashion.
Now a mother dressed for practicality. For long summers and not so fancy evenings.
I don’t feel pretty, unique or even myself.
Not until now that is.
Standing tall, taller than usual. Invisible hands lifting invisible string above my head – taller, taller.
I am not carefree. Not just yet, I haven’t been given the pleasure of letting go of self consciousness and self doubt.
But today I was like the girls from the magazines only less glossy.
My hair draped over my shoulders, messy and effortless. Awkwardly standing while I am photographed.
I wondered if she could see the clusters of freckles on my face that I had tried to hide with cover stick. I thought about what side I looked nicer and how I could disguise my uneven boobs.
Am I pretty yet?
Am I ok?
My role has changed, the years spent shaping my identity have shifted. I am the same person yet different.
She hung dresses on the wall so she could look at them and imagine wearing them.
I felt pretty today.
I wore one of the dresses that would have had a place on the wall with the rest of my nice clothes.
Realise the importance of saving a little space in your thoughts for yourself, taking time to remember what you like and what makes you happy. Whether it’s an outfit you have been admiring or something simple to lift your spirits.
You don’t have to fade away anymore.
Photography – Gemma Butterworth
Dress & Jumper both TopShop