The Sartorialist

Bishop introduced me to The Sartorialist a year or so ago. I love Scott Schuman's photographs, but I always feel crummy after looking at them. All the people in the photos are beautiful and thin and it just depresses me. One more thing I can never live up to. It's kind of strange that I feel this way because the photos taken by Bill Cunningham, who is basically is the godfather of street photography, always inspire me. They leave me smiling and looking for fun ways to improve my look and my wardrobe.

Still, like the masochist that I am, I continue to check out The Sartorialist. Today I paused in my scrolling when I saw the poster for Now, Voyager. One of my favourites. Bette Davis. What a sensational actress. I saw this film so many years ago and immediately identified with the character of Charlotte. I'm still looking for my Paul Henreid, preferably unmarried and childless. I paused on Schuman's final line of the post, where he summed up the greatness of Charlotte's physical and mental transformation.

It’s not that you should be valued by what’s on the outside – it’s the idea that sometimes seeing the beauty of your outside, can make you realize, your inside was just as lovely all along.

I love that he said this, like it's okay to look daring and fabulous and perhaps even turn heads. The sad thing is that Charlotte will never know if Jerry would have loved her with those bushy eyebrows, old maid clothes, and spinster hairdon't. I guess presenting the most beautiful version of yourself on the outside gives one the confidence to attract the eyes of another. But is it the confidence that one exudes that turns the heads of others, or the change in appearance? And are these changes authentic or merely to please another? I really wonder about this a lot. Especially when I wear a dress because it is so NOT me. But I really love getting dressed up (on rare occasions) and feeling fantastically sassy in my fashionista way. I suppose that the me in a dress is truly all me and it's authentically presented; it is merely another facet of the stunning garnet that I am. (Cause c'mon, diamonds are a dime a dozen these days, and totally overrated.) Damn it, now I have to go home and find my copy of Now, Voyager, watch it and cry. Oh, but it's so good...