Rosa Pazza: a wardrobe eulogy

There was a time when I could take pride in my fashion sense.  It’s true, I never had great posture and I was never skinny, but I used to have nice clothes.  Actually I still have pretty nice clothes.  They’re taking up lots of space in big closets.  Some of my favorites include a blue and white pin-striped Prada racer-inspired jacket. There’s a black and white button down Tory Burch blouse I scored at a Nordstrom anniversary sale.  There’s a whole collection of tunic tops. I definitely went through a tunic top phase, from solid colors to different kinds of animal prints. OF course, my maxi dresses, I love Maxi dresses!  Not all of these things are in my closet, some of them are now in other people’s closets.

The reason why I’m all of a sudden reminded, and even saddened, of my lost wardrobe is because of a topic that came up in writing class recently.  A student in the class courageously wrote about her battle with mental illness and seeking treatment in an institution.  She wrote that during this time it was important for her to not look like what her grandmother called a Rosa Pazza (Rose the crazy lady?), appear unkempt to the rest of the world.  So she made sure to always touch up her roots and apply minimal lipstick no matter what was going on on the inside our outside.   She’s always looked great to me!


Well as we were reading this piece I started questioning whether I was the Rosa Pazza of the group.  I don’t buy clothes anymore because I haven’t accepted my new body size and I keep telling myself it’s just temporary.  I still wear maternity clothes, and at work I’m usually in scrubs, also maternity scrubs.

I just looked at myself with brown flannel pants really hoping that they don’t look like pajamas to everyone else.  I was also wearing a fleece top, it was tan and matched the pants at least.  A little too snug around my mid-section as most of my tops are. My bras are ill-fitting these days.  The straps don’t quite sit on my shoulder and I wonder how obvious it is.

I looked around at the other ladies.  The other lady close to my age works in the fashion industry, so she’s always dressed awesome.  Another lady was wearing just all black.  Another lady was wearing scrubs, came from work perhaps.  I was definitely the only one in flannel, that’s for sure.

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