In July, I lost my job (that's the story of this year for me, not that sordid election)--a job I loved, and a job that became very much a part of my identity, a job with a very loose and forgiving dress code.
BeYOUtiful Butterfly was a perfect space for me. I was paid to look at clothes (otherwise known as "shop"). And, even in seas of Ann Taylor Loft sheath dresses and Talbots tweed blazers, there were lovely, unexpected jems. There were so many surprises--so many great vintage pieces, off-brands, funky prints, bold colors, foreign brands. I had a constant stash of incredible finds under the counter at work, and hanging those pieces in my eccentrically cultivated closet was a kind of ritual. My style has always had a certain undeniable flair (even in days when I wanted so desperately to fit in, or thought I did), but it became more carefully explored and, thus, defined during my tenure at The Butterfly. In the autumn and winter, I was a goth cowgirl, in the summer I was a hippie witch in resort-wear. Neither of those looks, however, necessarily work in other careers/jobs (or full-time moming it at home).
When the Butterfly's doors closed for good, I didn't get dressed for weeks. I clothed my body, of course, and moved through my days first at home with my son, then in a temporary gig that worked me to the bone for very little pay. I did not get dressed the way I had for the nearly two years previous, layering garments like paint on a canvas. I lamented that I did not choose my clothes more practically when I had the money and opportunity.
I'm in a more permanent position now at another job, and after testing boundaries by the tiniest increments day-to-day and week-to-week, I've discovered I have a considerable amount of freedom with my wardrobe in this position as well (though cargo pants and jean cut-offs are not options). It's not the same, in so many ways, but it'll do. Below, are ensembles from my last days at The Butterfly, and some I never posted.