Style doctoring without borders

The very best clothes change me - they move me, literally. They make me hold my hands a certain way, stride a certain way. They affect my carriage and expression and speed. For me, these are the things that propel an outfit from merely great to exceptional.

The movements here are large. They are not something you would do going down the sidewalk. Even so, when I hit the pavement, these bold physical expressions are still there, coiled inside, ready to spring, not necessarily through a kick, but maybe a quick smile or high five. An energy has been created.

It's getting easier to express the particular supremacy of a cut or colour or texture and its effect in my photos. Is it because I am more in tune with these connections or because I am becoming less timid in the use of my camera and locations? Probably both.

I am patient too. I know there can be no exceptional responses without the short-of-exceptional in between for comparison, which can feel interminable, so when I do find that magic combination, well, it's something to relish, something I couldn't fathom giving up.

This week I imagined what it would be like if I woke up one morning and found out freedom of expression had been banned during the night. Specifically, from now on we would only be allowed to wear state-issued khakis and button-downs with plain black cotton shoes. Bobs would be the only sanctioned hairstyle. In other words, the pinnacle of norm core.

The blow would be staggering. But I wondered about those people who have always suppressed their style choices fearing what other people would think. I can't imagine the regret they'd feel staring at, say, a little red dress they'd secreted away in the closet before the clothing police raided their home.

They'd probably be asking themselves - why didn't I wear my dress/platform shoes/palazzo pants when I had the chance!? Why was I worried about a few raised eyebrows?

So I say, PUT ON THAT FECKING RED DRESS. Put it on NOW!! Freedoms are nibbled away bit by bit until, yes, it's possible we could wake up some day to an altered reality. It happens. So right now, this very minute, is as good a time as any to revel in our freedom to wear whatever the feck we want. Abso-fecking-lutely.

I use my individual expression to create antibodies against the pestilence of intolerance. This particular outfit created an especially powerful batch. In fact, I shared it with people I met on the street who were also eager for a big dose.

I bought this coat at My Sister's Closet after it had been rejected by shoppers in a pop-up shop at a cinema before a fashion film I couldn't attend. When I didn't see the coat at the shop the next day, I was sure it had been snapped up, but I had to ask anyway. The volunteer on duty went to check, and when she came back, there it was. Apparently, many people had tried it on and passed. Whew!

These tartan palazzo pants are made from a heavyweight brushed twill and I bought them at Used House of Vintage several years ago. This was my first time wearing this particular combination. Pretty damned strong antibodies if you ask me.

It's been quite a week.