I was going through old papers the other day - the endless war against holding on to everything for posterity Vs functionality - and I came across some old journals.
Some were from when I was at school - endlessly outside the loop and dreaming of how many I was going to invite to my first million party. The plan was I would blow all of that on the party and horde the next million.
Some were from when I was on the cusp of one life and entering another - throwing away the chance of that million and the party but dreaming of the life-long party my life was set to become.
Then there were those from when I first had 'Salina and life with P. was unravelling. Certainly no party nor millions in store.
I have moved a long way from the schoolgirl, the hippie and the newly solo mum floundering around.
But I still look at the girl/woman that I was at those times and the girl/woman I am now, and I know those versions of me and understand far more of the creature that existed in those static snapshots than I do now.
I know a lot more of the who I want to be (more like little bits of those snapshots - but cropped!) and the who I DON'T want to be.
Of course, this introspection is brought to you by the sentence "shopping".
I did it yesterday - and came our poorer and not much wiser.
Yes, I actually bought some (1 shirt, 1 pants) clothes, but I tried on far more than I bought and lost a lot more than just self-esteem.
Truly - I can recommend one fitting-room where a market-savvy hairdresser should discretely place cards, because it made each grey root glow!
And then there was the advice I could give one t-shirt designer - putting a print of a girl pouring tea on a shirt - nice. Putting the teapot spout right on a nipple? Not wise!
Finally, if you see a size (insert relevant number here) shirt at a certain chain store, they meant it for all measurements except that where they saved material and increased profits - between the shoulder and where the bust should sit. Really - the band should go UNDER the boob.
Oh for the days of uniforms or hip business suits or tie-died cheesecloth or not giving a damn.
Clothes may make the (wo)man - but I sure as heck can't find the ones to make me!!!