People think what they think they’re supposed to think. Instead of understanding frames of thought and then creating their own, they simply adapt what they think they should think. I’m not with it. Some people simply can’t get passed that initial, basic thought and they contain themselves there. In order to find out who you are, you need to find out what you think. Conversations about what “people” think always end up being worthless. You’ve spent all this time trying to figure out the ideas of the world & have simply taken time away from forming your own. “I dress for men,” I explained, being sure to put both hands to my chest when I said “I”. Sometimes, it feels like people don’t want you to be different. They don’t want you to have a different thought from them, not to hold you, but because if you disagree, they feel like they’re wrong. What people don’t understand, is that we each have our own existence. Your job on this planet is to figure out who you are and what you think. Still, the dissenting thought is always that of the villain isn’t it?
I’m not a fashion anything. But yes, I work in fashion. I actually work for one of the largest, most respected American fashion labels in the history of fashion. No, I do not design clothing, but I have made some. My mother currently works part-time in a bridal shop, but you should see the pieces she’d made for my high-school semi-formal –with my direction & inspired by Lil Kim’s insert from The Naked Truth. It was a pink satin that draped low in the front and tied together with a belt –I had to thrift shop for buckle forever. It was topped off by a (faux) fur shawl I told her had to have a hood on it. The pieces were that classic I still own them. I am also not a model. But I have directed a fashion show almost completely on my own –I’ve spoken very little of that, but truth is truth. I’ve interned for both DC and Baltimore’s fashion weeks & while the DMV is amiable in their spirit and put their all into their respective fashion weeks… Nothing compares to the one true show I’ve attended –Calvin Klein Collection. I’m not ashamed to say that’s my one reputable show (the hood shows don’t count). Where have you been? I’m an advertising professional –meaning that is what both my degree and my current professional work are in. Fashion advertising to be exact. I don’t write on fashion, though, because it’s far too subjective for my taste. I do believe it is an art. It is a form of self-expression. No one person is made to wear everything, so if you don’t like it, it probably wasn’t made for you. If you don’t like what someone’s wearing, that’s probably not your crew –and that’s the real.
The clothing you pick is very deliberate. Repeating myself: When you approach the register with your selection, you’d made a choice as to what you should purchase. Perhaps you purchased it because it was on sale, or because your favorite color is red, or because it’s Gucci. Either way, you’ve chosen. Even if you wear cheap sh*t because you don’t want to spend money or simply because you hate fashion. Unfortunately, your fashion is now, officially “cheap shit”. You don’t have to care, but that is what it is. What you wear does matter. Everyone cares. Especially the guy who wants you. If he doesn’t care about labels, he probably want a girl who doesn’t care about labels. But if he’s Gucci, he’s certainly going to roam in circles of Fendi or Prada. So when you are going somewhere, and you are picking out what to wear, what you’ve worn there makes an enormous difference. The person you attract is going to be different.
“Fucks on your face?” my brother asked me when I walked in the door. It was the first time I’d snuck lipstick to school and (as every girl knows) the first time you put red lipstick on is the first time you realize the shit don’t wipe off so easy. He was the only person I never talked back to. I just stood there, looking up at him, saying nothing. I didn’t wear make-up again until college. Similarly, he’d also once had a girlfriend, Michelle, who stayed with us. I thought Michelle was gorgeous. She bleached her hair & wore short shorts with high heels. My mother will tell you the stories of when Michelle would walk around in the house, clicking her heels on the ceramic tiles. “TAKE THEM SHITS OFF,” my brother would yell. (My mother still laughs.) You see, my brother was the kind of man I’ll marry someday (give or take a few things). All the guys I keep close are the types my brother would approve of: inclusive of my cousins and male friends. In watching them over the years, I’ve taken note of the kind of women they like, too –women who dress to the occasion. Women who look good standing beside them in the club as well as across the kitchen table. From award ceremonies to BBQs. Women who match their partner’s “fly.” My brother liked Michelle because she was pretty –she wore make-up — but he also liked her. There was no reason for her to wear make-up and heels in the house (but I’m sure he’d had a private show. Michelle was a “dancer” lol) My brother didn’t like for the women of his life to attract attention where it wasn’t necessary. I didn’t need lipstick at school. I needed pencils and paper. There’s more to dressing than dressing –there’s dressing appropriately.
“These?” I put one open-toed, sky blue-based, pink flower printed shoe forward. I had come back into the house rethinking my footwear. “Or these?” I help up a black, thigh-high, leather, round-toed Steve Madden boot.
“What do you want to look like?” My roommate’s friend asked. They were mid-game but didn’t mind helping out if I looked good doing it (-_-)
“Respectable. Going with a friend. And his friend.” The reason I wanted to wear the boots is because I can run in those bitches. They were more comfortable –I had also just gotten them so I was in love.
“Those are gonna get you a lot of attention,” he’d told me, nodding towards the boots.
“Fiiiiine,” I threw the boot back into the room and led my Betsey’s to the stairwell.
A simple article of clothing –or how it fits– can make you be received differently. It’s as subtle as unbuttoning one-too-many buttons on your shirt. “Men don’t care what you got on,” they argued. I refuse to believe it. As I explained to them, maybe somebody else’s man doesn’t care, but mine does. There are simple things that weed out the bullshit. Frankly, when I wear nicer things, some guys just won’t try their hand –and I appreciate that. I’m honest with myself enough to know I couldn’t date a man who isn’t interested in what’s written on his tag. I’ve dated one before and he transmitted the value of my clothing to me. Because the clothing (and/or the brands I valued) were unattainable, so was I. I was always too good for him (or he claimed I thought I was. Ahhhh…. the power of projection).
If a person “cares” about what you’re wearing, that doesn’t mean you need to be “made up”. Perhaps that is where the discrepancy lies. I believe sometimes, you need to be normal. There are times I purposely don’t touch myself because I need that person to see what I really look like. That’s important, too. I believe you want someone who is thinking along the same lines are you are when it comes to how to dress. When I’m just chillin in in the house, I want someone who naturally matches my attire as well. I’m a ball shorts & tank top kinda girl –when I’m not getting my lingerie on 😉 –& my guy will be too. Two summers ago, I had this huge crush. The first time we hung out, my hair was done & my outfit was on. “Why are you so dressed up?” he asked. It was like 11:30pm. I obviously had no where to go. It’s not that he didn’t care what I was wearing, he cared that it was semi-inappropriate. That same summer he’d come over my house. It was my first summer home from college & I had brought literally two weeks worth of clothing while the rest of my shit was storage in a Baltimore. My closets and drawers were bare. “Where are your clothes?” he asked. I was embarrassed out of my life. Everyone who knows me knows my clothes be on racks on racks on racks, but at that moment… my life fell apart. Part of me thinks he interpreted me as some cheap chick (he was certainly well enough dressed) and that that had something to do with our falling off. Not completely, but had he really experienced my fresh, I’da had him.
Simple shit like… clean socks make a difference. & for the people who say they don’t care, you should have no complaints about those stretched out, turned grey Hanes on his feet. & you certainly have nothing to say if yours are the same. But when you’ve started to pay attention to what you spend money on, the person you aim to attract should be one who values the same things you do. It’s okay to expect them to value the same. What do I value? Shoegame, overall. *shrugs* For example, at the brunch, my first friend was Shatic –who was wearing a #dope ass Biggie T-Shirt which looked dope beside my Scarface. We matched. Not to say that it was romantic or anything of the sort, but my style was a hint as to what I’m into and his to mine. You knew, off break, we’re both Urban music fans. He’d seen my 12s in my bag & we had a little conversation about those.
“See you got the 12s in the bag,” he nodded.
“Yea, changed to be a little more presentable,” I admitted.
“Nah, you should’ve left them on,” he said. So… it’s not that the didn’t care about the Loubs, he just preferred the Jay’s.
The Loubs, I’ll be honest, were for the women –because they love to judge, so I give them something to bite at. Most have never seen Louboutins in person, so I aim to be their inspiration. I was dressed half-ghetto and aimed to use the Loubs to even myself out. I didn’t know how classy the even was gonna be and it’s always better to be overdressed. If anything, Louboutins are worn for two purposes: love and hate. This who love you will be glad to walk beside you and might even slow down to see what they look like from the back. Those who hate you will waste all their mind space trying to figure out how you got them. They’re attention getters. So when I wear them with a pair of cheap jeans, you still notice me. And that is what is important at a networking event. Not what guys are there or the guy-to-girl ratio. It’s who is there and who those people are going to be. Me? I’m Ella. I’m the truth. I just want to give you something to talk about. Who’s the genius now? 😉
Would you talk to the guy/girl in Sketchers? (That really is thew question of our age.) If you’re brave enough to say no, welcome to the wonderful world of the shallow –also known as the real world. If you have no idea what a Sketcher is, lucky you. I commend your having been able to avoid advertising. People who compliment each other, though, care about the same things (whether a romantic relationship or not). Simply put, a lady needs a fella to match her Louboutins & that fella needs a lady to be able to coordinate accordingly with his Pradas. Neither of those people are going to deal with the person in Sketchers –like it or not, judge them at your will. There’s something about noticeably expensive things that brings people together and/or tears them apart. Either you value the same thing –right or wrong –or you form a bond with other who are against that. It’s the same idea of meeting someone at a 5-star restaurant vs on line at McDonalds. That could very well be the same person, but more than likely, it’s not. My last real boyfriend was the t-shirt and jeans type and let me know he didn’t see the point of spending extra money on clothing. While I okay’d that, eventually, he also didn’t see the point in spending extra money on me. Frankly, a cheap person is a cheap person no matter how you dice it. Clothing is just the easiest teller.
Sometimes, we’re so concerned with that first appearance, that that’s all we put our effort into. That’s why you meet people & then, after a couple of times, you notice that their wardrobe is actually garbage. Never trust club attire. On the other hand, you get those people who are so concerned with labels that everything is fake. Diamonds missing from his chain. Paystubs vs Instagram not matching up. Then, there are the chicks who are so concerned with getting attention that everything is skin tight, cheaply dyed polyester from the $5 rack. You can go ahead and date those people. I don’t have to. I wholly agree that clothing isn’t everything, but it’s a big deal. You can deal with the person who doesn’t really care… but after a while, you begin to notice that that person doesn’t look like what you want them to look like. Instead of being swayed at the first sight, perhaps we should consider long-term. If you’re only concerned with the first thing a man thinks about you, you can’t complain when it breaks down at the end of the road. You should have look ahead. You should have looked at what the tires of his vehicle looked like. A raggedy ride will result in a raggedy drive. You can’t change people. & please trust, my man will not be some lame who don’t understand a girl with a mean shoe game. Are you insane?
We too often focus on impressing the wrong people. “I dress for my man,” I attempted to explain. “No matter what we’re wearing I’m not worried because you would never get my man,” I attempted to explain. “And I would never get yours. The accepted thought is that women dress for each other in some sort of ig unspoken competition for the men in the room. Have you ever considered though, that while you’re focused on the girl, she’s focused on him? Already you’re an entire person behind. If your there for a man, why don’t you try focusing on the men? Maybe that’s why women are having a tough time keeping their men. You’re focused on everything but him. Who’d want that? On the other hand, if what you’re looking for is one man… worry about that one man. It was the Bruch that elicited the question “Who do you dress for?” it stemmed from a conversation about the male-to-female ratio at the event –which I hadn’t noticed because I was too busy being business. I fear looking for love in inappropriate places as much as I do wearing the wrong thing. It’s simply not me. I understand what my purpose is in any given place & for me to walk into a networking event concerned with what the men would think of me is not what a #boss does. I can’t lie and say it all didn’t cross my mind –and I love to look at an attractive man, but I can push that out of my mind with ease. I, frankly, don’t give enough of a fuck about men –especially not when it can conflict with my money. Maybe that’s why I pay mind to his labels. I mean, shit, if I’m chasing mine, he should be out chasing his.
You’ve got to allow him to love you for you. If you learn to dress for yourself, as your man’s woman, you’ve nothing to concern yourself with –he’ll recognize you. That’s why, when I walk in a room, I’m not worried about anybody. No matter what the next girl has on, the man who loves me will love me. & if you’re not looking for love from the gate, what are you looking for, then? We need to slow it down. Not every outing is a match-making session. You need to learn to focus on and love yourself. That is how you attract the man for you. I understand, the man who loves you will love you no matter what you have one, but what you have are simply uncurious notes as to who you are. It’s okay to care what people are wearing, especially if you know it doesn’t matter. It’s one thing to appreciate clothing, it’s another to be consumed by it. It is also preferred to look at people as individuals and not care about their brands, but it does not make you a worse person to give a f*ck.
“Is your blog mostly about relationships?” she’d asked. Part of her simply wanted to combat me (we can lie about it if we want, but lying’s never truly a want of mine). I say that because she took on the role she thought she was supposed to. & In networking events where “showing love” is key, everything is fuckin subliminal. & It’s always awkward when people think they might do the same thing. I’m not the same as anyone , though, so I simply sit and observe. I held the heaviest part of my tongue in person and was greatly successful at sparing feelings because… I simply know how. I stand 5’2, 118lbs and –more often than not –everybody wants to test my gangsta. lol. Question of the quarter century: Why does everybody think I’m a chump? The idea was to get me to see that this had nothing to do with a relationship. Just cold, meaningless first impressions (as I was told to leave out anything for the future.) But… who wants to talk about that?
“You’re single, right?” I understood the question. Reworded with more truth, it’d have sounded like “You don’t have a man. What do you know?” I gave her a “wheres this going” nod to which her following statement started out with “When you find him,” and my mind sidetracked. What if I already have? What if I’m comfortable in not having found him yet? What if I’m that confident in my greatness that I’m not f*cking worried. My man is currently running his half of the world. I’m 24 years old, I have plenty time. I’m in no rush to fall in love as I already am. I’m already perfect for him. I’m exactly what he needs. & whoever he is I guarantee you, he agrees. It’s very hard for people to allow me my dreams. Because they don’t believe these things for themselves, they have no hope for me. But… if you don’t believe those things for yourself, I’d suggest you take a look at the quality of your relationships. I’m not ruined. I’m a good woman made for the arms of a good man. One. And if he so happens not to be by my side at any given moment, it doesn’t phase me. You can’t break me. You can’t make me miserable. So yes, I am single because I’m waiting for Mr. Perfect. I’ll be sure to Instagram the perfect ring he comes with.