This July I fractured my ankle and was forced to wear a giant, bulky air cast for weeks. I wobbled around Manhattan like a cripple, developed new-found appreciation for this city's handicapped population, and new-found appreciation for New Yorkers in general, who were so kind and often accommodating and helpful.
I was frequently stopped by fellow pedestrians to discuss my injury, and so they could share their personal stories. Many told me I'd develop back pain from my balance being thrown; they said the pain and swelling in my ankle would come back periodically for months; some said it'd be years before I would be fully without pain.
There was one side effect, however, of which no one warned me: my fractured ankle left me suddenly fashion impaired.
After the cast came off in August, I could only wear comfortable flats. And nearly all the work pants I own are tailored for heels. And wearing skirts with flats made me feel dowdy. So I began wearing jeans to work. And jeans led to comfy T-shirts. Every once in a while I'd wear jeans and T-shirts and sneakers. And one morning I woke up and realized I didn't dress like a TV gal anymore, and worse-- I couldn't remember how to dress. I couldn't remember what clothes made me feel happy, or confident. I began to wonder if I ever felt confident in my work clothes and I couldn't remember a time that I did. And even worse-- I realized that I was hiding. Even though I was really into my work (going into caves!), I inadvertently didn't put myself out there for recognition or promotion. I didn't want to encounter anyone important, so I stayed well below the radar.
One day soon after my revelation, I admitted this to my sister. She couldn't understand why I hadn't come to her sooner. My sister has really great style, has an impeccable eye for colors and textures and shapes. She is also an artist, with her own clothing and jewelery line (see Mylie). She reminded me that one needs to dress for the job she wants... She told me she wanted to come into the city and go through my closet with me to help get my life back on track. And I let her. Below is a photo essay of this experience.
Closet Before:
Shoes before:
Step One: Pull all the shoes out and evaluate.
Did I really need these?
Step Two: Pull all clothes out.
Step Three: Try everything on. Sister shows you how it's done.
Step Four: Make a list of things that go together, and a list of things you need. Here, little sis is hard at work.
Step Five: Eat. This is a tiring process.
Step Six: Make a bag of things to give away.
End Results:
The happy ending to this makeover fairytale is that I didn't have to buy anything new! Almost everything I needed was already there- I just needed to get rid of the sloppy stuff, set some rules (no blue jeans to work!).
I was frequently stopped by fellow pedestrians to discuss my injury, and so they could share their personal stories. Many told me I'd develop back pain from my balance being thrown; they said the pain and swelling in my ankle would come back periodically for months; some said it'd be years before I would be fully without pain.
There was one side effect, however, of which no one warned me: my fractured ankle left me suddenly fashion impaired.
After the cast came off in August, I could only wear comfortable flats. And nearly all the work pants I own are tailored for heels. And wearing skirts with flats made me feel dowdy. So I began wearing jeans to work. And jeans led to comfy T-shirts. Every once in a while I'd wear jeans and T-shirts and sneakers. And one morning I woke up and realized I didn't dress like a TV gal anymore, and worse-- I couldn't remember how to dress. I couldn't remember what clothes made me feel happy, or confident. I began to wonder if I ever felt confident in my work clothes and I couldn't remember a time that I did. And even worse-- I realized that I was hiding. Even though I was really into my work (going into caves!), I inadvertently didn't put myself out there for recognition or promotion. I didn't want to encounter anyone important, so I stayed well below the radar.
One day soon after my revelation, I admitted this to my sister. She couldn't understand why I hadn't come to her sooner. My sister has really great style, has an impeccable eye for colors and textures and shapes. She is also an artist, with her own clothing and jewelery line (see Mylie). She reminded me that one needs to dress for the job she wants... She told me she wanted to come into the city and go through my closet with me to help get my life back on track. And I let her. Below is a photo essay of this experience.
Closet Before:
Shoes before:
Step One: Pull all the shoes out and evaluate.
Did I really need these?
Step Two: Pull all clothes out.
Step Three: Try everything on. Sister shows you how it's done.
Step Four: Make a list of things that go together, and a list of things you need. Here, little sis is hard at work.
Step Five: Eat. This is a tiring process.
Step Six: Make a bag of things to give away.
End Results:
The happy ending to this makeover fairytale is that I didn't have to buy anything new! Almost everything I needed was already there- I just needed to get rid of the sloppy stuff, set some rules (no blue jeans to work!).
2 comments:
Yay! Love it.
Two questions/comments/observations: What about that ankle? What ARE you wearing to work to compensate for ankle?
If you want to crawl around in caves then you must but guano on, like perfume. Will you go into the cave in the red heals?
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