Day 10 – Pink, the new black

I woke this morning, aware that I had slept the night through, even though my dreams were not always fun.  Fortunately the cottage is in a very quiet spot in the centre of the city, and sleeping with window open doesn’t rack up the decibels.  So, more refreshed than I’ve felt in a while I got up to make my morning cup of tea, and a little shot of happiness was promptly administered.

Clothing yourself is an enormous subject, but I know I dress according to my mood.  My portrait beautifully drawn by the lovely Dan, shows me in my red velvet jacket, aka my confidence jacket.  If I’m feeling a bit uncertain for whatever reason, out it comes.  It is often admired, partly because the washed out, sort of pink colour rather suits me, and partly, I’m sure, because the smile I beam at the world whilst wearing it is part of my armour.  I never realised the power of smiles until my first serious relationship after the break up of my marriage.  The man and I remain friends, a feat that surprises me even now.  His kindness and positivity were a real tonic to my rather beleaguered soul.  We grew apart, not nastily, and our relationship ended softly allowing a smooth transition to the space we are now, with him happily with a woman who, I truly believe, will be his life partner.

I have written elsewhere of the paucity of compliments during my marriage.  ‘You look nice’ was mostly all it was, a duty parroted out when the occasion demanded.  Understandably, the fact that I am a good looking woman rather passed me by, but it was this first boyfriend who told me so, repeatedly, and also told me that my smile was lovely.  I had no idea, I had seen my daughters smile and the effect it had on people, my ex-husband had a smile that turned some grown up women to giggling teenagers (he was very handsome I’m afraid) so I assumed they had inherited his smile.  But no, I now know, and am almost embarrassed to write about. Almost.  The useful thing about knowing is it can be helpful and can protect when you need to.  Hence even if I’m feeling utterly dreadful I can usually summon up a smile to keep most at bay, except now I’m telling you all, but no matter, I’m sure you’ve worked that out.

I have a tendency to be practical in my clothes, plain colours, sensible things.  Mostly this is lack of body confidence but also it is not embracing my feminity.   I do have jewellery and scarves, but I have to work hard at them, and somehow I feel like I’m wearing the contents of the dressing up box.  The discussion about female clothing is something that has engaged many I know, across time and cultures, and, like many I suspect, my experience of dressing is bound up by my expectation of who I am and what I am for.  I’m aware this could descend into a political debate, and I’d like to avoid that, for those weren’t my thoughts this morning.

Since the end of my relationship I have been mostly numb, sometimes sad and alone a lot.  But I set myself little tasks and living in the centre of the city for some of the time I can potter off to the shops.  So I’ve bought myself little bits and pieces, which much to my surprise, are pretty and girly.  Furry pink slippers with a little sparkly bit made their way home a couple of weeks ago, and yesterday I decided to go and look for a pretty dressing gown, to replace, at least for the summer, my sensible purple ‘it goes it the wash and tumbledrys’ number.  I found a lovely white cotton embroidered wrap, perfect for the summer, and matching some summer pyjamas I found last week. 

I got up refreshed and put on my slippers and dressing gown.  And smiled.  Pink really is my colour.