banal fashion soliloquy

Observation 1: Listening to Gillian Welch is emphatically NOT how you get yourself amped to go dancing at a goth club.

Wine-sipping girl sits on the edge of her bed tenativley dressed in the most girly thing she's worn in ages. Army green, sheer wrap dress that has a "gasp" plunging v-neckline and combat boots on the striped legs, she dangles and dismays at her retiscense to appear in public in something skintight. This from someone who used to pose nude for artists and go to work in tops made out of tights (O.K. I got reprimanded for that)!
My self-image has changed dramatically since I have moved to the city/cut off my hair. I somehow feel like I dress androgynously (Mykle begs to differ, but this ain't his blog is it) and my fashion inspiration is an old man from the 40's. Little stingy brim with a corded hatband, big corduroy coat, pants that button, ginham shirt...you get the picture. Also due to my bikeriding I have lost self-consciousness about appearing in public with a dorky mushroom helmet and my pants tucked into my socks (aka I'm becoming my mother). Before I was content to halter-top and mini-skirt the issue. Now I bundle up and wish I had more cowboy shirts and dungarees.
Up there is Louise Brooks (again! the third time in this journal I might add), who dressed in drag or in drop waists or in pearls or in nothing (I'll post that picture soon), and was the sexiest EVER. Bless us all Louise, you libertine, you living doll, of the pearly elvin smile.