When I was just six years old, a trip to the grocery store with my mom changed everything. I spotted a woman in pantyhose, striking red heels, and bold blue eyeshadow. It was as if she radiated the essence of how I felt inside — vibrant and full of life. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her.
On our drive home, I eagerly begged my mom for pantyhose, red heels, and blue eyeshadow. I envisioned stopping by Sears or flipping through the Montgomery Ward catalog to order my own. But my dreams were dashed when she told me I would have to wait until I turned 16. I was crushed, feeling the weight of disappointment in the backseat of our Caprice Classic. Once home, I retreated to my room, crying and layering on cherry chapstick in a futile attempt to mimic the look I so desperately wanted.
I refused to wait a decade to embrace my true self. The allure of high heels and stylish outfits was undeniable — it was simply who I was meant to be. Unlike many, I didn’t grow up on fairy tales filled with rescue fantasies; my desire to dress up stemmed from a yearning to celebrate my individuality and love the reflection I saw in the mirror.
Nearly 38 years later, I still find my truest self in getting dressed up. Whether I’m heading to a fancy restaurant or just the local grocery store, slipping into heels puts me into a blissful state. Styling my hair lifts my spirits, and wearing my favorite outfits, be it a lovely dress or a classic pair of jeans, feels like a second skin.
My first pair of heels made their debut in seventh grade — I snuck my mom’s red heels to school, much to her surprise. In college, while many peers opted for a laid-back Birkenstock and baseball cap vibe (which I also tried but didn’t feel right in), I stuck to wrap skirts, dresses, and manicured nails.
Throughout my life, I’ve often been questioned about my choice to dress up. Weekly, I receive puzzled looks and inquiries about where I’m headed. Some assume I must have just come from a party or a meeting. Others ask, sometimes with a hint of disdain, “Why do you always dress up?” My response is simple: I do it for myself, not to conform to anyone else’s expectations. It aligns my inner self with my outer appearance.
Sure, there’s comfort in a good pair of leggings and a T-shirt, but I feel more at peace when I invest time in myself. The sound of my heels clicking on the pavement is invigorating, and if wearing certain clothes boosts my mood, why wouldn’t I indulge in that small effort?
As a mother of three living in a small town, I’ve been told I don’t fit in — even my oldest son wishes I’d tone it down. But I refuse to shrink myself to fit a mold. When I want to wear stilettos, I do it without a care for where I’m headed. I dress for me, not for anyone else.
I don’t question why others wear sweatpants or skip hairstyling; yet, somehow, people feel entitled to ask me why I choose to dress up. There are moments when I stand out in a crowd, but I never feel out of place. I’ve received curious glances while filling up my car in thigh-high boots and have been told I look out of place at family functions. But I never check in with friends about their outfits for a girls’ night, because I’ll wear what I want regardless.
I’ll always remember that woman I saw back in 1981, buying groceries in her shiny heels. Her presence made a lasting impression on me, and it was less about her outfit and more about the confidence it exuded.
Here’s to dressing however you choose, without needing to justify it. If you’re looking for me, I’ll be at the grocery store in my fabulous red heels.
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Summary
The author reflects on her lifelong passion for dressing up, emphasizing that she does it for herself, not for external validation. From a young age, she felt a strong connection to fashion that allowed her true self to shine. Despite societal expectations and occasional judgment, she maintains that wearing what makes her feel good is a source of joy and confidence.