I dress for myself. Not for the image, not for the public, not for the fashion, not for men.” Marlene Dietrich

Why oh why  has  it taken me such a long time to fully embrace Miss Dietrich’s words, to have the bravery to wear what I want when I want  without giving anyone else a thought. I have over the years bought lots of clothes that then lingered forlornly in my wardrobe never to see the light of day. Clothes I deemed too sexy, too feminine for a girl like me, clothes that would draw attention to me and I was never comfortable with people looking at me for fear they were laughing or ridiculing me, or focusing on my not-so slim legs.  I realise now that not only did I give other people far too much credit, I was also suppressing a key part of my identity,  a sense of who I am. If your clothes say a lot about you, then why was I reluctant to let my clothes say  what I loved,  about me? I mis spent a lot of my younger days doing my level best to ensure that my female form was was obscured behind jean, baggy jumpers, shirts that were surreptitiously ‘borrowed’ from one of my brothers. I think in some misguided interpretation of the feminist movement I associated those clothes that exalted the female body as somehow sexist. Clothes worn by women for men, to please to titillate.  It has taken me a long  time to get it, to fully understand that clothes that exalt the female form do not inherently demean  the woman wearing them, or reduce her to nothing more than a sexual object that exists purely  for the gratification of men. So Miss Dietrich a very big  thank you, now I can release not-slender legs from their jeans prison and feel fabulous about it.

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