Two cuffs: “fearless” on the pink, “tough” on the Kelly green. The wrong colors for a fall moto-jacket. I wear them anyways.
For now I still hear “how cute!” Because, now they clutter counters of Macy’s. They are “knocked-off” in tarnished metals by Target. They subject filtered photographs on the instigram of the girl Mulberry named its latest bag after. For now, they are trendy. Now I am “in.”
But long past the mark down tags, the trading in the halls of middle schools. Long past the celebrity who dropped hers one day and decided it no longer important to look for. I feel them on my wrist.
And though they are long past complimented and copied, I still have style.
Styling transforms the inward’s image out. An image adorned with trends and fads, with classics or pieces that were never called “cool.” With what does not matter. So long as what expresses who. When we dress, when we style, we become.
I walk past a mirror catching the two cuff’s reflection. The sun spotlights each letter of each word. “Fearless” and “tough.” I style myself with adjectives of my mind’s image. For today, it is the woman I will be.
My style is a string tied around a finger; another post-it on my planner. Every time my mind’s drawing bounces off the mirror’s glass it reminds me of what I need to do. So one day the drawing will be a photograph. So one day they will call me these things.
I could hang on the every trend. I could make a dollar leaving the cuffs on a rack at Plato’s closet. But for now I slip them on my wrist before every breakfast. I dress for my style. I dress for the person I am. I am fearless. I am tough. I am pushing the button…
The camera clicks.
See that photograph? It’s timeless. And between its framing, I will always be “in.”
