finding balance in the absence of color
I guess you could blame my aversion to color on the matching neon pink-and-brown polyester sweatsuit I was lovingly forced to wear one particularly brisk autumn day at the zoo. I was eleven, with pink and green braces, matching pink and brown hair ties, and a pigtail on each side of my head. Those two hours remain one of my most poignant memories to this day.
Upon reaching high school, my previously wild sartorial sentiments were diluted. Though I experimented with looks a many, I never experienced dread, that inexcusable pang in the pit of my stomach (at least, not at the time). Each year of the four was a new stage in my style, a pattern that I did not even recognize until its completion. Freshman year was an extension of my eighth grade years, sans Little Miss Chatterbox shorts; sophomore, a conglomerate of purple-tipped hair and faux leather leggings. Junior year, I was a bohemian; and, finally, senior year minimalism found its place (along with a newfound discovery of unflattering jeans and gold jewelry).
Alas, I had found my style, gladly without the involvement of polyester sweatsuits (despite, of course, the occasional groutfit). This look stands a testament to this evolution, pairing together some of my favorite silhouettes and hues to form an ideal uniform.
After all, it only me took eighteen years to get here.
