Dressing Well Means Dressing for Yourself

I was born on December 14, 1982, at a hospital in New Orleans. My father was not present at my birth. Nor was the doctor, who broke for lunch despite my mother’s appeals that her baby was forthcoming. The nurse had to deliver me. But that’s not the point: Being born on that day, at that time, makes me a Sagittarius with an Aquarius sun and a Sagittarius moon. Without getting too far into the alchemistic weeds, what this basically means is: On the outside, I’m a closed book; but on the inside, I’m more like a comic book. 

Lately, my innate goofiness has started to manifest itself in the way I dress. This sounds shallow, superficial, and perhaps stupid. But it’s true. And here’s why: Since college, I’ve passed from serious relationship to serious relationship, some spanning years, typically dressing the way my partners have wanted me to dress, however unconsciously. I’ve never really been on my own (by this I mean without a partner or prospective partner—someone I’m courting or whatever), but lately I’ve found myself dressing how I used to dress, watching all my old favorite movies, and listening to old Interpol and Blur and Brian Jonestown Massacre. This has happened gradually, unconsciously, and like the changing season, it was all of a sudden upon me. 

For whatever reason, I’ve started paying attention to actor Jonah Hill, and his “dressing for bliss.” He surfs all the time, and has begun dressing in very fun, breezy clothing—bright colors, loud patterns. He’s lost a considerable amount of weight. I don’t know much about his personal life, nor do I care to. But his lifestyle shift has all the trappings of a serious breakup. Turns out, he’s a Sagittarius too.

The way I dress is not an affect, and I am not dressing for bliss (a means to an end). But I am dressing with intent. I’m reverting, perhaps, but in a positive—Jungian—way; I was a carefree skater kid in middle school, before romance and people-pleasing were part of my life. I’m dressing for myself, again. 

I respect people in suits, the razor-sharp tailoring and fine lines. But it’s not for me—I’m just being honest with myself. And, in my quest to rekindle my self-relationship, I’m putting honesty first. Finally.

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