fashion

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I really feel flattered and honored when someone comes up to me in a parking lot and tells me I have the best fashion sense he has ever seen.  It is especially nice because I am with my husband.  Usually this sort of thing happens when someone ambushes me during the 15 minutes or so I have been separated from my husband at Walmart, so I have to file a support with him after the fact.

But this time he was an eye witness.

To see what I mean go to my Instagram page.  And why not follow me on Instagram so you never miss out on my latest hijinx?

I have read a bit about how fashions are supposed to have an effect on the stock market and politics and heaven knows what else.

I wear fashions because of how they make me feel.  Today it was sunshine yellow because I was hit with a streak of optimism.

I have since heard of “fashion psychology” as a field. Fashion psychologists sit with women finding out what colors they have preferred, and what styles, and helping them choose a new wardrobe for, presumably, a happier future.

In this way, at least, I do not think I am so complicated.  I love the styles I grew up loving in the latter half of the twentieth century.

I could not purchase the clothes of female authority then, for I was both too financially challenged and too heavy.

My favorite color changed from blue to purple to hot pinks and magentas as I found a little success and optimism.

If you feel good about yourself when you look in the mirror, what you are wearing is a very good choice.

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Mattel's Bald Barbie dollMattel really got it right with this one.  The “Bald and Beautiful” Barbie for young girls with cancer is a truly beautiful thing.

I would certainly not consider myself an authority on the relationship girls have to dolls.  I was never terribly excited about them.

I hated fashion dolls as they were thin.  My mother had explained to me early on that none of the women in our family were thin — so I would never be.  She tried to find me a chubbier doll, but I was not fond of clothes then.  Maybe I could have related to a doll that looked fat enough to need to shop at Lane Bryant for clothes that fit.  There was no such doll then. Read more on A Company With Heart — The Bald Barbie Story…

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