How my closet in advertently became my indicator of happiness

 

I know that I’m playing into a stereotype by saying this, but I love fashion. I can’t really help it, it’s in my blood. My mother, in all her beauty and glory, was an 80s fashion queen. I remember being three years old and hearing the TV blast “Style with Elsa Klensch” every Saturday morning after I watch cartoons. I can see the stacks of Vogue magazines piled up in the corner of my mom’s small Hoboken apartment in New Jersey. I can visualize how her shoes were laid out, her hat strategically placed on the wall and how her clothes were arranged in perfect and so stylish order. Like I said, it’s in my blood. now I’m nowhere near the fashionista as my mother was, but I do consider myself someone who is trendy and on occasion has very classic and elegant looks. so when I looked at my closet recently and saw vibrant shades of tangerine orange, sunshine yellow and jungle greens I knew that I was happy.

For a very long time I wore black. And don’t give me wrong I actually love wearing black. Black is the color of professionalism. If you’re opening a salon, barbershop, restaurant, any service industry knows that black is the staple. for the most part you just look more pull together when you were black. Not to mention I’ve always been led to believe that black is slim. And for a woman who only seems to gain weight in her stomach, black was my color. But, for a very long time black was my only color. Black sweaters, black coat, black socks, black underwear, black black black. And then it dawned on me. Looking at my current rainbow closet and comparing it to my black closet from a few years ago the answer was clear as day. I wasn’t wearing black to be professional, I was wearing black because black was my mood. No don’t get me wrong, I’m a sister who believes that black is beautiful all day every day. But because I was unhappy, I was hiding in black. hiding in plain sight, trying so desperately to camouflage my sadness while still trying to prove how strong I was. you see, when my life changed in transition to what it is now, sold in my closet. The black sweaters turned into light blue ones, the black dresses turned into leopard print and regal purple. I didn’t need to hide in my clothes anymore because there was nothing to hide from. The color of my clothing no longer reflected my sadness, but it reflected my metamorphosis into happiness.

So yes, I have a rainbow closet now, full of blush pink, warm creams, a bit of feisty reds and evergreens. But under my rainbow my foundation is always black. My matching underwear set is sometimes lace but mainly a comfortable and sturdy cotton. Dark as a sky last night but always showing my strength. Because black is still my foundation, but my feathers shine like rainbows in the sun.