I often take photos of my more dressy outfits. I took one months ago, and I’m surprised by how much I’ve grown to like it. At the time perhaps I thought it was cute, but by not taking the ironing board out of frame I know I didn’t think too much of it.
Yet, once it filed along with the other daily photos I realized I love it. I love that my hair is up. I love the bright red flowers in my hair that catch the red of the bracelet. I love how even though the stripes in the dress are the color of dried blood they look a bit pink next to those deep red. The white from the bolero picks up the ruffled edge of the dress and the socks. The folds in the bag recall the heavy use it gets. Finally the shoes, though a more cream and now darkened by dirt, I love how dreadfully whimsical they are. I love how the flowers in them pick up this faux pinkish created by those more vibrant red. I love this outfit, but more perhaps I love that at the time I didn’t.
Have I changed since taking this photo? Have I suddenly become less extreme, and these more simple lines strike a deeper cord in me now. No, I think now I just realize that even the simple everyday outfits deserve love.