Recently, I’ve fallen in love with dressing up. No one is more surprised than me. I thought I’d been assigned to the function-before-fashion folk in this lifetime, plucked from the fashionista litter at an early age, never to know the joy of putting together the perfect outfit. Colors, texture, and style were afterthoughts to practicality (if they were thoughts at all). Now, I often pour myself a glance of wine, play Beyonce on itunes, and star in my solo fashion shows for fun. I stunned my mom into disbelief when I asked her to go to the mall the last time I was home. Afterall, every hobby needs the right gear. I finally understand the joy of finding the earrings that perfectly match the shoes that bring out the accent colors in the jacket.
I blame it all on the MBA and the smart dressers in class with me — the stylish women and buttoned-up men: it’s contagious. I also blame it on getting older — it took 30 years to feel worthy of dressing up and confident enough to do so. Now, my only problem is figuring out where to keep all the new shoes. I am grateful for my new, over-the-door shoe-hanger. Now I can actually walk in my closet to decide what to wear.