When I go home for the weekend, I always run through the same motions.
First, I step through my front door to an affectionate miniature dachshund named Buster, then drop off my bags in the bedroom I grew up in and then, lastly, and perhaps most importantly, take a stroll through my mother’s closet.
It’s quite funny how often I find myself snatching clothes from her closet like she’s my sister. I’m not even sure when I started to realize that my mother has such an immaculate sense of style, because I can remember the days when I was certain I’d never dress like her.
Back in middle school when flaunting moose-embroidered polos and sequin tracksuits were all the rage, I stood perplexed at my mother’s fashion choices. Her style is daring. She takes chances with teacup-length suede skirts, maroon leather jackets and flannel maxi dresses.
My 13-year-old self probably would have laughed in your face if you told her she’d be perusing her mother’s closet for inspiration and pieces to borrow today.
However, my mother’s experience in the realm of defining her closet by her personality was naturally far beyond my capacity at the age when what I wore was all about conforming to the uniforms of those around me.
I was once consumed with following the rules of fashion. Black and navy within five feet of each other stressed me out. In my book, it was a sin to wear any variation of jeans that weren’t skinny legged. And a bag or belt had to be the identical shade of a color already on my blouse to be considered an accent piece.
For a while, fashion seemed like a math equation that was made up for us. You color within the lines, matching up the same shades and styles, outfit after outfit. If this were true then my mother would have never been able to find a solution to the problem.
Yet she knew the trick I hadn’t yet grasped. There are no rules when it comes to your closet. You can throw on what you’re drawn to, mixing and matching until you finally come up with something you want to walk out the door in.
In fact, her attire details every quality of hers I admire. Her sense of adventure is visible in the way she explores matching unexpected duos such as floral with flannel. Her confidence shines by the way she wears whatever she wants regardless of the opinions of others. And her overall beauty and strength is apparent in her ability to wear truly anything and somehow make it a bold statement.
As a fashion-obsessed journalism major I’m frequently asked, “Who is your style icon?”
And for me it’s funny to think that my true style influences growing up didn’t come from watching celebrities on television or even the friends who surrounded me at school. The fashion inspiration I know I will always carry with me comes from the woman who never feared the funky scarfs or questionable boots in a thrift shop. She’s the woman I’m lucky enough to call my mother.
While her closet isn’t as lavish as Kim Kardashian’s or Beyoncé’s, my mother’s apparel is unmistakably her. And if one day my wardrobe amounts to be half as fabulous as she is, it will be one hell of a closet.
