I can’t be a school girl, or boy, forever.
I saw a girl, a woman actually, on the train earlier. Her skirt was pleated and plaid, black tights and ballet flats; I looked up at her face and it was drawn, older–it was incongruous. Perhaps I misread her age but perhaps I did not. Her outfit–and yes it was an outfit and not simply attire–did her no justice. It felt like a play act and not a real clothing of oneself.
Of course, we all have the benefit of choice. We may choose to wear what we choose to wear so as to appear as we would like to appear, but even if something fits by size does not mean that you can still wear it.
My office adores my ties and my plaid skirts (never pleated!) and knee socks that show just a sliver above my riding boots. They think me charming, playful, a prepster let loose, fun and flip. Dashing, even.
The truth is that it is an outfit some days. Other days it fits me as I am, in how I see myself and what I want to present to the world. But, if I want to be seen as who I am becoming, perhaps I need put away those childish, school girl-boy things? Perhaps it is time for me that accept that just because it fits does not mean I should wear it?
No one is young forever. Not even me.
The bell has rung. School’s out.