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I am not elegant. Most of the time I merely acknowledge this, and move on--there are other good things besides elegance--but there are days that it just hits me, like a brick from above.
I have a fairly clearly defined view of elegance; muted or jewel tones, clean, flowing lines, coupled with smooth hair and clear skin. . . the blame for which can be placed on three things. My former best friend, early exposure to Elfquest's Winnowill (who, although Evil, and twisted, and cruel, so very much had style), and a love for Asian art.
Dan has elegance in spades, at least from what I saw of her. All loose limbed, languid gestures and lazy glances, sly little smiles and a combination of goth and practical that looks absolutely lovely on her. Smacked me right in the still-soft space in my heart labeled 'Grace' . . .
Ae has an almost accidental elegance, because she simply doesn't care what others think, and dresses to suit herself. The fact that she's also three inches taller than me, has a braid down to her arse and is a uniform study in golds and tans doesn't hurt her at all.
Jens has, in times recent, developed a studied sort of gothic elegance that makes my heart hurt to look at. Elaborate earrings in multiple piercings, dark-red-gold hair in ringlets down to her waist, chunky heels that make her as tall as me . . . I tease her about the Goth fixation on black, wine red and silver, because I myself have a habit of dressing in those colours and don't look particularly Goth.
Even when I had long hair, I wasn't elegant, or anything even close to it. Tatters and flyaway fringes, wisps of hair floating around my head as soon as my mane dried, the whole thing a partially grown-out mass of pale-gold ended fading to reddish brown fading to dark brown at my scalp, attacking anything unlucky enough to get close to me, and shedding two-foot-long strands everywhere. (I still shed. They're just shorter now.) One of my old coats still has a sample of every longhair I knew at the time--a delicately gold/brown from Mei, a kinky gold from Jens, darkbrown and the longest of them all from Grace, and a tricoloured, split-ended one of mine--the polarfleece acting as a static-y trap.
I'm short, and curvy, which would be alright--as Jens has proved to no uncertain extent--if I would stop bouncing, given to combining muted-toned fabrics with ancient ones, yielding a . . I don't know. Prep with delusions of grandeur? Certainly not the clean-lined elegance I see around myself. I always feel sort of uncomfortably pretentious when I try to imitate it--like a little kid playing dressup . . . unable to convince myself either way if I am overdressed or underdressed.
I usually describe myself as a scruffed-out half-punk--unable to make the final steps to becoming full-punk, yet unwilling to give up the moniker belied by my love of delicate shinies for my hair or ears.
. . . *sigh* Some days I wish I'd never fallen for Grace. Or at least confessed it, instead of awkwardly trying to become her, which must have been annoying to the extreme.
I have a fairly clearly defined view of elegance; muted or jewel tones, clean, flowing lines, coupled with smooth hair and clear skin. . . the blame for which can be placed on three things. My former best friend, early exposure to Elfquest's Winnowill (who, although Evil, and twisted, and cruel, so very much had style), and a love for Asian art.
Dan has elegance in spades, at least from what I saw of her. All loose limbed, languid gestures and lazy glances, sly little smiles and a combination of goth and practical that looks absolutely lovely on her. Smacked me right in the still-soft space in my heart labeled 'Grace' . . .
Ae has an almost accidental elegance, because she simply doesn't care what others think, and dresses to suit herself. The fact that she's also three inches taller than me, has a braid down to her arse and is a uniform study in golds and tans doesn't hurt her at all.
Jens has, in times recent, developed a studied sort of gothic elegance that makes my heart hurt to look at. Elaborate earrings in multiple piercings, dark-red-gold hair in ringlets down to her waist, chunky heels that make her as tall as me . . . I tease her about the Goth fixation on black, wine red and silver, because I myself have a habit of dressing in those colours and don't look particularly Goth.
Even when I had long hair, I wasn't elegant, or anything even close to it. Tatters and flyaway fringes, wisps of hair floating around my head as soon as my mane dried, the whole thing a partially grown-out mass of pale-gold ended fading to reddish brown fading to dark brown at my scalp, attacking anything unlucky enough to get close to me, and shedding two-foot-long strands everywhere. (I still shed. They're just shorter now.) One of my old coats still has a sample of every longhair I knew at the time--a delicately gold/brown from Mei, a kinky gold from Jens, darkbrown and the longest of them all from Grace, and a tricoloured, split-ended one of mine--the polarfleece acting as a static-y trap.
I'm short, and curvy, which would be alright--as Jens has proved to no uncertain extent--if I would stop bouncing, given to combining muted-toned fabrics with ancient ones, yielding a . . I don't know. Prep with delusions of grandeur? Certainly not the clean-lined elegance I see around myself. I always feel sort of uncomfortably pretentious when I try to imitate it--like a little kid playing dressup . . . unable to convince myself either way if I am overdressed or underdressed.
I usually describe myself as a scruffed-out half-punk--unable to make the final steps to becoming full-punk, yet unwilling to give up the moniker belied by my love of delicate shinies for my hair or ears.
. . . *sigh* Some days I wish I'd never fallen for Grace. Or at least confessed it, instead of awkwardly trying to become her, which must have been annoying to the extreme.
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All in the eye of the beholder
Date: 2003-10-15 02:08 pm (UTC)From:I have this box in my room where I keep all these sentimental useless things and I was looking though it today and found an old birthday card from you. And you are such a thoughtful person! (I got all mushy inside:') Thats what I got logged on to LJ to say, but then I got sidetracked thinking about what your post was. Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for being such a wonderful thougtful friend in the past and for being one now.
[slightly twisted smile]
Date: 2003-10-15 03:25 pm (UTC)From:. . . Though now I'm curious as to what I wrote that made you go mushy. ^__^
no subject
Date: 2003-10-15 04:57 pm (UTC)From:I see someone who's still young and in love with the world. Who's bright, and exuberant, and comfortable in their skin--who may not be beautiful or elegant in the classic sense, but who has something that many models would kill for--the ability to draw the eye and hold it, to have people look at you and see who you are, rather than just what you look like.
For us plodding, cynical souls, that's beautiful enough. :-)
. . .
Date: 2003-10-15 07:30 pm (UTC)From:Thanks, lady. I needed that.