At four years old, I was a little girl who loved to dress-up in frilly dresses and sparkly jewelry, while shining a bright smile for the camera. At eight years old, I religiously watched every episode of Tyra Bank’s "America’s Next Top Model," envying the flawless models and hoping of one day becoming a contestant. At 12 years old and measuring close to a triple-zero waist size, I was fixated on pursuing a career in the fashion modeling industry. At 16 years old, I entered my “America’s Next Top Model"-themed sweet 16, strutting down a runway wearing a ball gown, tiara, high heels and of course, a face perfected with makeup. Fashion beautified my appearance, but I knew that when I washed my makeup off and substituted my dress for a shirt and sweatpants, the only part of me that remained was my love for fashion.
Just as I had matured in age, so did my sense of beauty and style. Still, it was not until I underwent a traumatic experience that I began to truly appreciate my passion for fashion.
In my junior year of high school, the struggle of hardship became an agonizing and unfortunately, familiar routine in my life. I heard the words, “your father is diagnosed with prostate cancer” and thought I could only learn to grow in strength from his battle. I was forced to cope and suppress my overwhelming grief on my own. Physically, I was a living human being, but emotionally, I was desensitized and barely alive. Unable to mask my pain even with the slightest smile, fashion became my disguise. If I could not cure my father, chunky earrings could conceal that hurt. If I could not escape my depression, ripped jeans could conceal that hurt. In some comforting, yet odd manner, fashion embellished not only my appearance, but my existence in its entirety.
I devote myself to my passion for fashion because it is the underlying basis to my sense of self. It has shaped my identity, enabling me to cherish my individuality. Fashion would be unable to survive without its most beneficial quality — versatility. In my case, my sense of fashion is an essence of my personality. My ideal outfits change congruent to my mood, varying from classy and sophisticated to “stressed, depressed, but well-dressed.” Yet, who can forget my favorite and ultimate “go-to” outfit for those lazy days — “grandma-hobo chic.” With no restrictions, fashion modifies and accustoms itself to the infinite possibilities of style. Whether it be a modern trend or outdated fad, fashion prevails as a form of free art and provides a feeling of liberation.
I value my love and passion for fashion! My journey to realize my passion for fashion is easier said than it was done, yet it has proved that fashion is the one aspect of my life that I can always find happiness in. The trends may adjust, new models may emerge, and the industry may revolutionize in the cosmopolitan world of fashion, but my love for fashion will always remain.
Fashion has been my mask and disguise and ultimately, the basis of my identity, even if I am daring with bold, red lips one day and “boho-chic” with crochet, floral headbands the next. Still, I would not be me without the fashion and glitter that runs through my veins. Supermodel Tyra Banks once stated, “perfect is boring, human is beautiful” and I cannot think of a more perfect way to justify the striking approach in which fashion inspires life.
So, I encourage you all to go find your own passion and indulge within all its luxuries it has to offer you!
