She is the one you see everywhere, but you never see her the same. She stands at the back of a room because even in the dark she shines. There is no need for her to draw attention to herself, the attention is in her smile. She has on the hat. Yes that big floppy brim, two simple feathers perched off to the side, slightly tilted over one eye. And the eye, it pierces in your direction.
You have seen her before, you remember her style, it is never repeated. Except for that dainty circle she wears around her neck on the dainty chain. It’s her trademark to accent the leopard bottoms, chiffon blouse, blue jean cut off jacket, or tasseled top. She is the girl who will rock combat boots even when everyone in this little town stares.
She has made friends over the years, she is known by the brand of a school, but soon she will know by something else. Her identity will be defined by what she does more than by who she is.
But who is she? To be said in three words, she is “Leather and Lace.” She has always been the girl full of beauty. Grunge beauty, and indy beauty, even a slight hint of preppy beauty that was left behind by that teenage girl so focused on fitting in. Though that is the beauty of it all. We are all these things she embodies.
We are all these people we once were and will become. But for her it came natural, she never forced it, just let those little pieces stick around. You can find her at the bar with one of those numbers so many girls wear. But don’t think that is all you will see. No, she will dawn the black dress with pumps and her red biker jacket. Her hair thick and long down her back. And her clutch. She carries a clutch because nothing is more important to bring than yourself.
No need for a phone, she doesn’t account for those not in the moment. Her hands don’t twitch to the letters of a text message, her mind reels with ideas of the future. She remembers being young and being different, even then.
The value of money always on her mind. How much allowance must I save to get that Marc Jacobs wallet? When can I run away to New York and live in a fabulous flat the size of my hand? Where will I put my shoes? And will I fit in? She has always been years ahead of her classmates. This point in her life is no different. She starves for fashion. Her parents monthly budget will be no better spent than on those aztec wedges. She fights for the designers she always loved.
In a town full of typical brands she strives to be the difference. Her mind reels with the idea of her future. This transition from college to adult life. Where will she be? What will she do? Her dreams of walking the streets from day to night. From skinnies and boots to fur and an afghan scarf. From a protected life to the unknown. She signs off saying always with love, because to her love is all she has ever needed.
It is the constant she has always felt. The love for her favorite pair of jeans. How they make her feel on the worst of days. When she is unsure of what is to come she runs for them, and for all the things she has put so much heart into collecting over the years. She can think the best. She can dress her best. But she will not know the outcome until it is here. All she has, and all she has ever had, is her style. And that will never change.
Always with love,
TCE
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