Since I was a little girl, I have always loved to dress up. My mother has always been well dressed, and she passed on her love of fashion to me,. And her love of Paris, but that’s a story for another day. Growing up Russian typically means you very much care about how you present yourself to the outside world, what you wear, how your hair looks. It’s not uncommon to be prepared to walk out of the house, only to hear “You’re going out like that?” from a well-intentioned mother or grandmother.
My personal style can be described as: feminine, quirky, bold, classic, and indie, all at the same time. As with everything else that I write about, and with my life in general, it’s a work in progress. I’ve gone through many a phase that makes me gasp revisiting photos.
I had my Avril Lavigne phase in 7th grade, when I would layer a red H&M camisole over a long-sleeve black mesh shirt. Paired that with a plaid skirt and looked like a ghost who waltzed straight out of Hot Topic.
I had my “I want to tend goats on a farm phase” where I could easily be confused for an Amish woman on any given day. Long frilly skirts paired with even more bohemian tops and soft, long hair brushed out to it’s max fluffiness.
I had many outfits that I hate looking back on, and many that I love seeing in photos. Through it all, I have always used fashion as a tool for self-expression and creativity. But, a lot of the time, I was scared. I was worried about how I would walk out of the house wearing something that someone deemed “too much.” I once had a pair of really chunky, high heels that I wore in college. My dad always said they made me “too tall” and they were “horse-like” and I never forgot that comment.
Since then, every time I bought a pair of shoes, that comment stayed with me. Was I going to look like an overgrown pony in these? Would men look at my shoes and think I was ugly? Even worse: would women look at my shoes and think that I had horrible taste? I stopped myself from taking chances so often because I was afraid of what people would think.
Fast-forward to my birthday this year. I had been on the hunt for a pair of gold platform pumps for a few months. Since COVID started, I basically stopped buying clothes because there was nowhere to wear them. Heels… forget about it. I sold off most of my old/nice pairs that sat collecting dust in my closet and spent the earnings on sparkly sneakers and comfy ballet flats. And then for whatever reason, I had this itch for a pair of fabulous, gold, platform pumps.
I didn’t want a sensible pair of shoes. I didn’t want a beautifully-made pair of flat boots I would enjoy all winter long. Nope. I wanted a pair of shoes that were special. They had to look special and feel special and they had to be a pair of shoes I wanted, not a pair of shoes I need. They had to be crazy, in a good way.
I finally found the pair, and because I am a very impulsive shopper (and I kind of knew what I wanted) I hit buy in the same moment. A pair of gold Gucci platform pumps. 37. Pristine condition. Knotted gold leather. Pearls and brass hardware on the platform. I could return them if they didn’t fit, but I crossed my fingers that they would.
When they arrived, the box felt so heavy. I panicked a little bit. “This is going to be… a lot of shoe.” I opened the box and my first thought was: holy ($)(@*$ I love them. My second thought was my father’s voice in my head telling me I will look like a horse wearing them. I slid them onto my feet and they fit like a glove. They were even, dare I say, comfortable?
I took a few steps around the room and the tennis match of conflicting thoughts bounced around in my head. “I love them!” “They’re too much!” “I love them!” “People are going to think they are so extra.” “I love them!” “Who do you think you are to wear these shoes?” and that’s when I was hit with an aha moment.
I was coming off the energy of a birthday weekend and in that moment, I decided that twenty nine was going to be my year of yes. If I wanted to wear a pair of crazy platform pumps because I loved them, then that’s what I was going to do. No questions asked. No dialogue. No fear of societal judgement. I would ask myself one question: does this thing/experience/self-expression make me happy? And if the answer was yes, I was going to do it.
Does this idea I have to write a newsletter seem crazy when I’m not a writer and have a small toddler and a full-time job? Yep… gonna do it anyway. Who do I think I am to start a podcast? Doesn’t matter, gonna say yes, because I want to. Will people think I’m lame for sharing my 2 year-old’s meals on Instagram? Don’t care. If I want to share something, I will. If I don’t, I won’t. And on, and on, and on.
Maybe for some of you, your self-confidence is iron clad and you don’t have that exasperating voice in your head nagging at you, asking whether or not you’re good enough, smart enough, worthy enough, cool enough, good enough. But for those of you humans, like me, who struggle with this sometimes, I invite you to come with my on my year of yes. Be unafraid. And do whatever the hell it is that your heart or your head or your gut wants you to do. Buy the shoes, eat the pasta, paint the painting, make the documentary, ask him out. As for me, this morning I put extra cream in my coffee and then I strapped on my extra gold, extra pearly, extra tall platform pumps. Who cares if it’s ridiculous to wear 5-inch heels around the apartment? Powerful start to the day, I’d say.
This was gold (pun intended). ❤️
How dare you not include a picture of you rocking these fabulous shoes? Such a cliffhanger!! Loved this read. Ready for more YES!