
It’s shocking that I even like fashion. If my family had their way I would be dressing like the woman to the right. I learned necessary lessons growing up like: wear blaze orange if you’re going into the woods during hunting season and if you’re cold put on a sweater. We’re a practical bunch and it’s hard for me to wear clothing that goes beyond its aesthetic purpose. I was neither raised to be a pretty, pretty princess, nor did I have a fashion maven mother to look up to. What I did learn from my mother was brutal honesty, which explains why people love to go shopping with me. I have no filter. My sister tells the story of shopping in the Buckle with me. The salesclerk had just raved how fabulous the jeans made her look, when I walked up and said are you serious? She looks like she has a load of shit in her pants.
My style is practical pretty. I wear dresses because they are easy and I hate my thighs, cardigans because I live in San Francisco and everyone layers, indoor scarves for the same reason, and flat boots because I’m on my feet all day. I don’t wear painful shoes or outfits that would require strapless bras. This is my style and it works for me. I admire anyone who can find their personal style and I will probably feature a lot of those people on this blog.

