If I’m not on the road, then I’m visiting somewhere; if I’m at “home” (well, one of them at least), it won’t be for long. I love to travel; I see it as “play” for adults. I have been all over the world and it’s the purest form of hedonism, the purest drug I know. And I’ve finagled a life for myself that will continue to allow for this type of lifestyle play.
Growing up in my dear teenage bedroom, my love for playing with identity was sated by personal dress and style. I was known for being eclectic and even absurd and outrageous in my manner of dress. However, in my adult life, I always have one foot out the door and have spent years traveling lightly, much to my fashion chagrin. This means that since I last had a proper closet/bedroom (when I was a teenager), I haven’t had the luxury of adorning myself and playing with appearance nearly as much as I’d have liked. When you relocate often, it’s impractical to bring everything with you, and I’m too much of a conservation-mind to go out and re-buy the same things over and over. In a very direct way, I sacrificed a satisfying and varied wardrobe for satisfying and varied locations and lifestyle. I don’t regret it, but I kick myself thinking of all the great places I’ve been and how much more fun I could have had if I had invested in my physical form!
I set myself to resurrect some of the wonderful fashion disasters of my youth, and the majority of what you’ll see here is stuff I’ve had in boxes from over 10 years ago. This is my journey back into the past through my own relics.