I Want Him to Play Dress Up

“I think you should get a slim tuxedo.”

“Why?”

“Um, because I think you’d really look good in one. Like sexy good.”

“Huh. Maybe I will.”

That was a no. I knew it too. He always says maybe when it’s a no.

While I love my husband dearly, his sense of style is lacking. He’s restricted himself to his nerdy graphic Ts, 3 plain dark colored T-shirts (one long sleeve), a brown corduroy blazer, and the suit he owns from our wedding. The rest of his attire is jeans and his polo for work with the company logo and his name tag.

His looks are simple and targeted to his tastes, which consists of his favorite shows and movies and his interest in Egyptology. Graphic T, shorts or pants in denim, and his sneakers. That’s his daily outfit and rarely does he deviate.

In nearly any daily circumstance this is totally fine, but there are date nights when we want to go out for drinks and I want to put on a cute dress and feel a little more formal. Yet, I feel insecure and overdressed when he does very little to deviate from his usual wardrobe. The best he can do is one of his plain black T-shirts with his jeans and sneakers. While I’ve got full makeup, and little black dress, red pumps and a vintage pillbox hat.

It shows you who cares more about outfits and efforts.

Not that I need him to have a huge wardrobe like I do, but it would be nice on occasion for him to wear a nice slim fit button up shirt and kakis. And not one if his button up Hawaiian shirts he owns for posterity and hardly wears. Like a cute fun pattern that still looks really nice. A bow tie for the whimsy he often try’s to emulate. Slim cut dress pants in grey, black or khaki, and perhaps a little pomade in his hair.

I have bought him a few things. I have a really beautiful men’s sweater I got him one Christmas that he now only seems to wear for Christmas. I bought him a nice black men’s blazer that I’m fairly sure he’ll never wear. I’ve looked at some really nice slim fit men’s suits. I doubt any of them will ever be purchased, because what’s the point?

It seems selfish of me I know. It just sucks when I’m the only one who puts in efforts to really dress up for him and look nice, and as a designer aesthetic really does matter to me. Yes, I love playing dress up. For all the times I do it for dates and the like, I wish my husband would too.

He has all kinds of crazy things he owns that he jokingly likes to put on, mostly headwear. I mean when I ask him to dress up he often comes out with some crazy hat or an intricate metal and horse hair plume replica centurion helmet. Which I laugh at, but at the same time feels like a shot at my desire for someone willing to match my aesthetic. To put forth the same effort to look nice for the woman who put forth effort.

Which hurts because it makes me feel like he’s intentionally being tacky to make fun of me.

There is a local bartender at the Irish Pub in town I know who is built like my husband. An older gentleman. Slim and bright man with a charming smile and a beautiful collection of bow ties. I never see him without a vest, button up shirt, and cabbie hat when he goes about town even if he’s in jeans or a matching set of dress pants. Really smart conversationalists and overall personable guy. My husband has a similar personality and I envision my husband looking similarly. Really classy and artsy type like my hunny.

I wish I could convince him.

Part of me knows that the reason he does the graphic T thing is because he hasn’t figured out a fashion style that looks good on him. Or he may be afraid to? But again, when I know something will look nice on him I feel that he’s not willing to try it because he’s unsure.

It’s just like his recent discovery of his photography abilities. He was always reluctant to try it. I told him if he knows what makes an art film look good then he knows how to compose a good photo. The amount of times I tried to convince him to take the camera and shoot some simple images of me finally added up. He tried it. We went through pictures together. He suddenly realized he had an eye, as I knew he did all along.

I keep trying and persisting. It’s all I can do really. I know someday that I can convince him, but I know it will take time. I just want him to let me dress him up occasionally and match my efforts. I even started a Pinterest board of things I totally envision a man like him experimenting with. it’s not complicated. It really isn’t. And it’s not like I’m going to make him do it every night or every date. I just want him to occasionally play dress up with me.

Made More Pretties

Made More Pretties

Made Some Pretties

Made Some Pretties

Being Beautiful

“Btw. When someone makes a comment about how attractive one of my companions is, I tend to lean into it. If the type of comments I made tonight at all makes you uncomfortable, please tell me and I will stop. I think you are absolutely amazing and also physically gorgeous but I don’t harbour any resentment towards you because of that. I just don’t want my verbal antics to make you uncomfortable in any way.”

I didn’t even think about it last night when it was happening. Three martinis in at the pub and a marvelous performance of Mary Poppins in my brain, I was having an excellent time. At one point my dear friend started showing me off because of my unusual dress. Something a little more high fashion than the area would have been used to. Still, I felt good in the dress. It was a statement piece and I knew it, so I was ready for looks and stares.

What I didn’t realize was how many looks and stares I would get, and how much my friend was ready to hype me up. Yes, I felt good. Yes I was allowed to be beautiful, and at no point was I ever offended by her showing me off. It’s kind of why I often bought dresses, so I could look and feel beautiful.

In the past I’ve posted a bit about my struggle with beauty. I’ve always been considered “cute” and only that. Since being medicated I realized that much of that was the kind of clothing I wore. I hadn’t let my wardrobe grow up with me very much. Granted, I really liked cute clothing, but I never did what I could to break the barrier into sophistication. Mainly because I was afraid to. Being sexy or beautiful requires funds I didn’t have and time that was precious to me. Plus being beautiful meant attracting attention, and as an introvert attention was and is something that exhausts me.

There is also risk in being beautiful. People struggle to take you seriously sometimes. People often will give you unwanted attention. People will find reasons to hate you out of jealousy over the superficial. People will use you, like my mother used to when she took me out places, to get better service or discounts. Not that using me for those things is a malicious thing, but it does make one wonder what other ways one could be used.

That night, I was having fun, so much fun that it never occurred to me that my beauty was under any kind of scrutiny or malicious intent. My friend felt that I looked lovely and felt it valuable to let me and others know. Waking up to that message was a comfort to know that she cared and didn’t want me to feel like I was a piece of meat. She wanted to respect my new found step into sophisticated fashion, and wanted to support my self discovery in that area. She wanted to protect my exploration.

I responded:”I wasn’t offended at all. I’m just not used to being fawned over so much by someone other than [my husband]. It was very nice though. [My husband] asked me when we got home if I liked having other people point out I was beautiful. Tonight I did. It made me feel good. I’m learning to embrace being beautiful. In the past I had seen it as a curse. I’m learning that it’s just a thing and only part of who I am, just the more visible part. I had a great time last night.”

I am a Maker

Like my Creator I too have been given the blessing of being able to create. I have been given hands that can hold my instruments, and a mind that can see things that are not yet there. I have seen beauty beget beauty and deep searing pain beget beauty. I have seen that which seems impossible and made it so. I make words work together. I make small beautiful things to adorn people and places.

I work on my artistry and craft for the same reason I write here…for therapy. Every piece has held, helped, and healed a moment in my life that was joyful or painful. Each piece I have crafted is a monument to my desire to make beautiful things as I have been made into a beautiful thing. To remind others that though they adorn their homes and themselves with my work, they have been adorned with a souls, crafted by the greatest hands of an Almighty Craftsman.

I work to remind the world, that if you want beautiful things you must…absolutely must….stop starving the artists.

Below is a collection of some of my small adornments. They are a combination of metals and natural materials. If you’d like to see more you’re welcome to visit my business Facebook page.

Nostalgic for Another Age

The Lady in Gold by Anne Marie O’Connor holds my thoughts a lot lately as I’ve been reading it. In a time where wealth, elitism, and a hostile environment towards modernism in art and Jewish culture become a chaotic romantic period all its own. I continually think about what it must have been like to be part of high society. To live with papers writing about you and to see painters display portraits of yourself commissioned and hung on gallery walls. To live during a time of revolution and oppression all at once.

I often think about the way things were then. About what being a young woman in society looked like. The oppression of the feminine sexuality in the brink of its liberation. A time when social standing could be both a blessing and a curse to the private and social life depending on the pastime you chose as a lady. The more I read about it, the more I find myself wishing to ah e lived it. To be part of the golden revolution of sexuality and modernism. To go to fashionable parties and meet the artists of the time, talk to hem about their artistry, to speak on political climates and to spend time bejeweled in gowns at operas with friends.

Most days I wish I was born in another era.

What I both love and loath about the time is he way men treated women. Male callers would respectfully call on you and show you a good time, but to be seen as anything but virtuous while out with the male caller would mean the complete destruction of your eligibility were things not to work out. If you were less fortunate, you’re marriages would be arranged, with wealthy older men who probably had mistresses and STDs. Still, the glamor of the wealthy lifestyle would have been nice. To own palaces and fine jewelry. To attend social events regularly at salons to exchange new and exciting ideas. To get dressed to the aces and go out dancing as a single debutante. The thrill of being chased after, and the thrill of knowing you had a chance against all chances to sense the changing tide of female liberation.

Of course, the book I’m reading takes placed during both WWI and WWII. With political anxiety at its height threatening the liberation you so desperately were seeking and the research of Freud was so nearly honoring, only to be swept under the rug of war along with racism. What a trying, terrifying, and anxious time it would be to live in, if we are being realistic. Not something to envy.

Still, I romanticize the idea of living high society life in those days at its glamorous height. I envision myself much like the rebellious women of the time. Sensually dressed in the latest forbidden fashions. Frequenting salons to talk on the artistic and political climate (which only means talking about men, which I would be a considerable advocate of being young, single, and allowed my forgivable ignorance). Sipping champagne and tea on hot afternoons in galleries, alone and mysterious…and stubbornly unchaperoned. Loudly fighting for women’s suffrage and rights at the turn of the century.

Yes, I’ve been daydreaming about it a lot. Wondering why such things no longer take place? Though, to be realistic once again, such lifestyles require not just wealth, but elitism, something most Americans, myself included, would cringe at. That is the unfortunate issue with fantasies like this…they have so many negatives about them that at the end of the day you wonder how good could anyone in high society, then or now, really have it? Still, the shallow part of me wishes being able to dress up and go to respectable house parties Gatsby style wouldn’t be too bad if one could avoid the drama and times were fairly peaceful.

Made Some Lovlies

Just wanted to share.  

    
    
 

Concepts of Beauty

“I’m thinking of going down to a pixy cut. Just because of how dry my hair is .”
“I kinda like your hair the way it is now baby.” He responded sounding somewhat disappointed. That struck me as a good way to open up a conversation we hadn’t had yet as a couple. So I posed the ever relevant question: 
“Do you think it’ll look bad? This isn’t a trick question, I really want to know. ” 
He was silent for a moment. Contemplative. His mother was a hairdresser. He has seen a lot of hair cuts happen at the salon. He knew stuff and had opinions. He had only ever seen me with my signature under cut. Perhaps he needed a moment to think about it. 
I’m not usually one who cares so much about what other people think, but when it comes to him, his opinion matters to me. I try to listen and consider it thoughtfully out of respect. Granted I may not always listen, but as a creative person coming from a graphic design background, I desire feedback. I want to know what others consider beautiful, because the variations of what is and isn’t considered beautiful is fascinating. Diverse. Complex. 

Perceptions of beauty are subjective. Formulated between cultural norms, worldviews, and preferences based on experience and more often than not, sex apeal. As a couple I wanted to understand where his perception of beauty came from. Was it mostly physical? Was it emotional? A combination? What was it that made him consider something beautiful? I wanted to understand what he considered beautiful, then I wanted to ask him why. Get him thinking about his reasons and then approach it from how that opinion of beauty was formulated. 
He finally broke his silence.
“Ignore me baby. You’re always beautiful. Everything you have ever tried you’ve made look amazing. This can’t be any different. I love you. Besides, it’s just hair, it doesn’t change who you are, and I happen to be very into you for being you. I say go for it if you want it.”

It was a good response. 

Pretties Revealed

Had been working on some new jewlery designs and wanted to share them with you all. Was trying to find new and interesting ways of using my leather scraps, while also inegrating crystals and semi-precious stones. 

Leave some love if you like what you see. 

   
    
    
   

Feeling Dark

felt a little dark this week. Had some fun with makeup.