I’m not quite sure where dress sense comes from. Is it a cultural thing? Is it an ideological thing? Is it a stage-in-life kind of thing? No clue. What I will say, though, is that it sort of bothers me when someone rages against “my” dress sense, or better described, the kind of dress sense that for whatever nutty reason I’ve lately been identifying with. Yep. I know. Bitchy. Autocratic. Annoyingly self-centered. Touchy, over-dramatic and diva-esque too. No doubt. Nevertheless, dress sense means more to me than just clothes.
The Greek woman clothes are sassy, sexy yet not in a rude way, swarovsky encrusted, well coordinated & well accessorized, perfectly fitted and paraded around while sporting an undeniably irresistible posture that has nothing but confidence written all over it. The American woman shares an equal amount of confidence, yet needs no swarovsky crystals to adorn it with. Jeans are plain and baggy, running shoes serve way more purposes than running and fitted isn’t by any means a word of interest here. Now, the Greek-America woman find herself in a pickle to say the least. So here’s how she copes:
1. She decides to ignore all surroundings and dress up regardless. Being hard headed by nature comes in handy.
2. She takes advantage of the breath-taking sales on delicate dresses and shiny accessories everyone else ignores and gets a bunch more for the aunts and cousins, sisters, girlfriends and friends of girlfriends in Greece.
3. She stocks up on American brands such as DKNY and Ralph Lauren as the prices on that staff are ridiculous compared to what they sell for in Europe. The family will be eternally grateful and adequately impressed this Christmas.
4. Round about the five year limit of living in North America, however, the Greek woman finds herself wearing running shoes. She decides to allow the indiscretion as long as the running shoes are either patent leather or encrusted with rhinestones and itty bitty, shiny, pink beads.
Needless to say, it is possible for a Greek woman to go downhill around the 10 year limit. Junk food may take its toll and loose fitting clothes may make the natural choice. Or she may just get tired of the work it takes to be that well manicured and matchy matchy and just give up. Yet, there is one thing she’ll never give up: the big white watch with the shiny stones around the dial. Something has to give away boldness, one way or another…