|Look, more flowers! Don't leave!|
I think it's pretty base to say we all perform a variety of public and private selves, in our actions and appearances. Even if it's not couched in such formal language, we are aware of the "professional" look and attitude, the "interview appropriate," the "formal," the "uncomfortable family gathering." Bypassing for the moment whether these are all facets of the authentic self or whether such a monster as the authentic self exists (spoiler: I don't think it does, but I use private twitter for those gnashings rather than further degenerate the quality of the internet), they are nonetheless constructions, of how we present ourselves, how our self-presentations are read, and the feedback loop of writing, reading, and being read. I am reasonably confident that I've maintained the ability to present acceptable selves for specific settings - no professors have been horribly offended by my aspect - but the comfort zone we all inhabit in the day-to-day is gone. Every time I go to put on makeup I might as well be going to a party I don't know anyone at and was invited to at the last minute - is this okay? Does this go with that? Do I like this? Why am I going to this party? Isn't this supposed to be fun? Given my constant need for validation my partner deserves a Nobel Prize for patience.
A number of times over my makeup-wearing years I've wished for the jeans-and-black-shirt beauty equivalent, something I can put on my face without enduring suspicion that the costume has become an obvious one. I've been wearing makeup pretty consistently for well over a decade but I'm not sure that I've ever, ever, worn the same look twice. Of course, if the "me" ensemble of choice is essentially gothy capriciousness, then whatever, but it's increasingly obvious to me that having a collection rather than a wardrobe doesn't suit my life or my desires. This is a realization that's been coming on literally since I started overhauling my closet as a junior in college, I think I've probably even blogged almost that exact line before, and yet still I'm trying to drag together a style; a basic self. If I do still enjoy makeup as a hobby then why all this caterwauling? Is my problem seriously that I have too much variety, or do I simply have way too much time on my hands? Can I get a resounding, "BOTH, YOU FOOL"
My only plan for the time being is to try to get out of this headspace and stop buying things as long as I'm in it. It seems as though the longer I'm in doubt about what I like, the more everything becomes a temptation - it could be this one! Maybe this! Maybe all of these! NOPE, STOP. I'd love some friendly ruminations on Gothademia, though I'm also trying to distance myself from having a #brand. But considering that my first signature self was based upon the desire to look as intimidating and unapproachable as possible..
|Submitted as evidence: this recreation|