It drew me like a bug to a bug zapper - a swatch of electric blue swishing down the church hallway. I zeroed in on the bright, happy hue of blue and tapped the lucky lady on the shoulder. "I love your dress," I gushed. "It's so bright!"
The woman gave me a brilliant smile. "You know, when I pulled this out of my closet this morning I wasn't sure I dared wear it. Then I thought to myself, 'Shirley would wear it,' so I went ahead and put it on."
Really? She wouldn't have worn it without my silent, absent stamp of approval?
I cannot fathom people calling each other to ask what the other is going to wear to whatever event they're both attending. What difference does it make?
Speaking of clothes, a couple of ladies recently talked about me while I stood beside them. After making vague references to some book they'd both read, one said, "And that's just like Shirley."
"What's like me?" I asked, not following their thread.
The other lady turned to me. "You're authentic to your style."
I blinked in surprise. "I don't even think about style," I admitted. "I just wear what I like."
The woman gave me a patient smile. "That's why you're authentic."
What is YOUR authentic style?
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