"You cannot wear black here," said the owner of the New Age restaurant, "it's a dark vibration and imprisons your light." All I had was black outfits, that was my thing. I'm cool. I'm edgy. I'm a rebel. I can't go against my style for a job?? I'm proud to be stubborn too.
It was 15 years ago, I had lost a lot of money in the stock market and was catapulted from being well off and successful into broke and burdened with the guilt of having made a huge mistake. With a kindergarten kid and dog I had moved from a stylish Adobe house in Santa Fe to a freaking air stream trailer in Topanga. At least it overlooked hiking trails and mountain lions...but... My ego had suffered an unsuspected crushing hit and now this, now I was to wear frumpy hippie outfits? How bad can life get?
I needed an easy job so that I could finish my screenplay and be in the saddle of success again. I applied for the wedding planner job at this romantic restaurant delivering an amazing speech of my many entrepreneurial successes. Having organized large art opening parties in my gallery and restaurant proved that I was totally fit for the job. The boss lady took my hand and said in a calming motherly voice, "Why don't you start as a hostess."
The old belief that "I'm not good enough" fell with the door into my house of cards and flattened it; I had held on to being worthy for several years now. But bandages only last for a while; it was time for me to look at the stuff hidden in my darkness. "Don't hide in black" was a huge wink from the Universe which I refused to see. I chose to be upset about the insults to my ego. What an audacity to take away my style! I was proud of my mirror obsessed vanity.
Used to being the boss myself my lesson in humility unfolded to my great dismay. I couldn’t even wear black, did I had to iron out some bad karma here? I needed the money so I agreed to squeeze myself into dresses I considered an unfortunate style faux pas.
A couple of years later, after I had not written the screenplay but climbed up the restaurant ladder I was allowed to wear black again; the boss figured that my inner light was so bright now that it pierced through the darkness. Gosh, finally I was me again, finally I had MY style back - and then I realized that being focused on being the best single mom who ever existed it didn't even matter anymore. I was okay in jeans and tees and simple dresses for the job. Then the boy left and I looked into the mirror; vanity was back with a vengeance screaming, "Now you're too old for fantastic fashion."
Fast forward to my Instagram fashion journey, a amazing year in which I created a cool course called Styling from the Insight Out. Don’t worry I won’t sell it to you, it’s not on the market yet. I had tested a lot of different mindsets by trying out lots of different styles. Losing my judgment about those styles I got much closer to understand other women and their different takes on life and with that my own.
My Instagram gallery said, "Check it out, girl, you have changed." My pictures were pink all over. Pink? Seriously? I saw sweet, girlie, happy feminine outfits as much as edgy jumpsuits, rock'n roll jeans or teeny bopper skirts. I had gone from a fierce male Rebel vibe to the feminine path of ReBelle, reclaiming my true inner beauty reflected in my style. Even the formerly considered kitschy Belle of Disney's fair tales, a lady-like style and the “sexy 60” femme fatale were included. Who was this person?
My followers commented on my joy and opened my eyes like a collective guru; I am the cosmic giggle, at home at the playfulness of a child. I wasn't just playing with other styles I had adapted some of them, they were part of who I was: a multiple personality. That was my new order; wear what you feel inside or what gives you the vibe you need today.
In the many rebellions of my life against unfairness on personal, political, social and cultural levels, in the many NOs were the jewels of what I really wanted; to be free to express my truth. Awareness actually was like light piercing my darkness; I saw all the colors inherent in black and I had grown brave enough to let them out.
Help, I don't have A style.
Hurrah, I am multiple fashion personality.
My style is to wear my heart on my sleeves.