Let's just get this little tidbit out of the way.
I really want to be in New York right now.
That being said (yet again), I can only moan about it so much before I annoy not only myself, but the poor 2 other people who read this blog, at the same time. And lord knows I don't want to upset "my readers".
Let's address the issue at hand:
Feeling, but not looking, like yourself.
I figure this can be a symptom of a few things, but most of all, I'm leaning towards it being a result of peer pressure. Peer pressure in a real physical sense (i.e. your friend's one really cool friend), or in a more abstract sense (celebrities, bloggers, editorial models, etc, etc.)
Either way, the phenomenon of feeling more comfortable with your inner self than with how you actually appear (in a mirror/photo) is an interesting one. I find that this often occurs to me after a really good (subjective) movie, at which point I spend several weeks trying to embody the persona of my favorite character. In the process, I end up completely negating the fact that elbow-length gloves and babydoll dresses do not, and never will, mesh with my body/personality type (Kiera Knightley. Pride & Prejudice).
I also may or may not have recently bought a headband to use as a small crown re: Elvish Princess.
I'm also a victim of sartorial dysmorphia when attempting to mimic the wardrobe of someone I admire. For [true life] Example: The other day, a friend of a friend strolled across the street, smoking a cig in a badass cigarette holder, clad in parachute pants, upper arms clasped in symmetrical metal adornments, shielded by Lennon shades, and completely killin' the confidence game.
I HAD TO BE HER.
|skirt: Anthropologie, shirt: thrifted, necklace: grandma's & C. Alexandria|
I spent the rest of the day hunting down just the right ensemble to exude her same (what I would soon realize to be) inimitable confidence.
The next day, I took these pictures, and I felt totally at ease.
The day after that I looked at them.
And did not feel totally at ease.
What happened? Was I a different person Monday than I was Sunday? Or did my aspirations drown my true self in dreams of somebody else? And why did I only realize the disconnect after looking back upon the photos? In a non-mirrored-or-bloggered world, would I have never known just how unlike myself I looked?? Or is it so ordinary for me to imitate the images of others that my strange uncharacteristic ensembles are now just as much a part of who I am as my "Classic Gabby" ensembles?
Do I even have "Classic Gabby" ensembles?
Am I just a chameleon?
Is that OK?