Outfit photos? Who is she? Is this 2013? Not to worry, you’re not caught in some time vortex, thought I feel like after the last three years going back to 2013 might be idyllic.
Anyway, I was out taking photos of my newly finished Disco Mirror and I had on a cute look to show off the mirror, and figured I’d throw in some outfit pic and try to get some new headshots. These pants are my absolute favorite pants. I’d wanted them for at least a year, but they were out of stock, and when I finally saw they were in stock I jumped at the chance to grab them. At $108 they’re definitely a splurge for me (almost all my clothes are thrifted, so it doesn’t take too much for something to be considered a splurge, lol), but I’m willing to shell out more when it’s a special item, well made, and something I know for certain I’ll wear constantly. The idea of cost-per-wear is something I used to think about a lot back in my fashion blogger days, which is basically just the idea of dividing the cost of the item by the number of times you wear it, so if something is more expensive, but you wear it a ton, then the cost-per-wear of the item goes down.
My style has really been hard to nail down since I had Jack, which now is almost 7 years ago (whoa). I used to be such a vintage fashion girlie, then more boho, but I’ve had such a hard time finding my style since becoming a mom. In the past six months I’ve felt like I’ve finally dialed in a style that feels really me. In a way, it’s just dressing in a way that my teenage self would look at me and think, “Damn, she’s cool as fuck.”
Top: Target // Pants: P&Co // Boots: Amazon // Necklace: Amazon // Jacket: Thrifted + customized
After my two month break from social media, I’ve felt a little like a flailing, newly emerged butterfly. I was so adept at my caterpillar life as a DIY content creator. I knew how to do things well, I got great feedback from the algorithm that my content was getting good reach, I was working with brands… and then I hit burnout and things started feeling weird. So I went in to my cocoon over the summer and it was lovely and rejuvenating… but what emerged at the end was startling and unrecognizable. I didn’t want to do DIY content creation anymore. I didn’t even like the moniker “content creator.” Over the summer I’d rediscovered my artist self, and she was begging to be given space in my life.
As I thought and journaled about it, I realized that my DIY content creator self was created in the aftermath of having Jack and feeling completely and totally untethered in the storm of new motherhood. I was straight up not having a good time, postpartum depression was taking its toll, and I just desperately needed something that was totally and completely mine. Something I could do that felt productive and creative. A place I could pour myself into and find myself again.
And I did! But along the way I also created this platform that was wholly devoted to DIY. I’d marketed myself as a DIYer for over half a decade. I’d built up something that wasn’t going to serve me as I moved forward into a more holistic expression of myself.
And don’t get me wrong, I love DIY. I have been a DIY girlie my whole life and will continue to be a DIY girlie. But the DIY girl is also an artist and has been since I could hold a damn crayon. In 4th grade we had watercolor paintings of the northern lights that our class made hung in the hall, and some lady wanted to buy mine. In 6th grade my teacher dubbed me the “poetry queen”. I went to college and got my art degree. And over the years I’ve made a life for myself where I’ve been able to be creative on a daily basis and I’m really really proud of me for doing that.
But the one thing I haven’t done is give myself the space to create art. I create a lot of stuff. I make rooms, I paint murals, I make disco mirrors, I design merch, I build furniture, I design my website— all of that stuff is sort of in service of something else. I want to make art that I can hang in a gallery. I want to write books. And I know that it’s not like what I’m currently doing isn’t art, but there’s a difference in my mind, you know? Maybe it’s the difference between “fine art” and practical art. If there is such a difference.
Either way, that’s where I’m at. A flailing butterfly who hasn’t quite figured out how wings work, but feeling less scared about this new body and way of moving through the world.
