I was that girl.

Throughout high school and early college, I was that girl. The girl that was never single. The girl that thought a boy could fill a void that a new L.A.M.B Fulani tote could not. The girl whose group of friends changed almost as often as fashion trends of the season, depending on the guy she latched herself to.

It can be compared to the Ed Hardy t-shirts and trucker hats you reluctantly pulled out your Visa to purchase years back. You thought it was the style you wanted to portray because the majority accepted it as a trend to be followed. When, in reality, it was a dreadful display of fashion covered in multicolored and overpriced rhinestones. I was not an individual. Sadly, I relied on a boyfriend to fill me.

Even though me, myself, and I were not nonexistent in my everyday choices, I did lack a foundation and individuality of my own. Although this notion was regularly lingering through my mind, it wasn’t until about a year ago that I truly felt the sting of not knowing who I was or what I wanted.

After attending a junior college and living at home for two years, I was ready to pack up what seemed like countless belongings and begin to find my individuality. As I threw the last box of clothes into one of the three vehicles used to transport my entire wardrobe, I couldn’t help but think how my priorities would completely change these next few years. In the past, with no fault but my own, my top priorities included: chatting with my boyfriend on the phone, hanging out with my boyfriend, scheduling friendships around my boyfriend, revolving my life around my boyfriend.

I honestly felt as if I held my breath every week until my manager handed me the next two weeks of my work schedule. For it was then that I could instantly begin to plan the time I would be wrapped in his arms again. As corny as it sounds, how can you truly be there for someone when you haven’t even found yourself.

I never actually built a foundation of my own. Sure, I had a job and an amazing family, but there was something missing. Something that is even more reliable than my little black dress, means more to me than my fabulous Nanette Lepore coat,and knows me better than any well lit three-way mirror.

My beautiful and remarkable friends.

Fashion is an expression.

Aware or not, everyone utilizes fashion to express their wealth, personality, interests, or even their current mood. As I lovingly gaze at my color coordinated closet, bursting with articles of clothing, I can’t help but take note of the fact that each piece is an actual expression of me.

The 34 pairs of neatly folded designer denim taking over the top shelf of my closet does not simply convey my love for brand names, they express me. Each pair varies in purpose. It is obvious to me that each of these is a necessity when factoring in the many facets of my life.

What woman doesn’t rely on
the fat-day jean to make her feel thinner,
the over the top trendy jean to turn heads for her individuality
or the curve hugging jean to make her ex completely jealous?

I’m not suggesting that 30 something pairs of denim are necessarily the key to expressing yourself through fashion. I’m almost positive I have broken triple digits with the amount of accessories and blousy tops I own that exude my personality and lifestyle as well. I am simply proposing that a love for fashion is not synonymous with materialism.

Fashion is an art.

The beginning.

Through the past year, I have made my life my own. Gaining new perspectives has aided me in becoming a confident woman. There is nothing like the feeling of being completely alone. Not until you hit the bottom curled in an old flannel shirt can you truly begin to look at what you want in life. I know what it feels like to trip in your stilettos and face plant into a pile of hardships. But don’t get me wrong, I’ve been blessed with an amazing life where strong relationships have without a doubt picked me up.

I can honestly say that each and every relationship makes me who I am today. Whether they were healthy or unhealthy, loving or hurtful, selfish or selfless, they shape my life everyday. My style, my personality, my love life, my friendships, my everything. It’s like those fantastic 3 inch platform rocketdog shoes we all used to wear… I can’t live in regret forever. They helped me to see that some trends just are not meant to be supported by all. Just like the guy that broke your heart with his lies and awful skater shoes. The distant memory even still constantly reminds you to scan to the floor before agreeing to any date.

In all seriousness, this recollection of this guy will help in spotting and avoiding future Mr. liars. Although I feel I have been successful in distancing myself from a majority of these men, I can’t say this guy helped me to avoid:

Mr. Angry, Mr. Needy, Mr. Immature, Mr. Moody, or Mr. Justnottheone.

But, I am fully aware that these Mr.’s have led me to the notion that

I know what I want.