Laura said, last month, that I did a pitiful job of announcing my new store, Mireio. She’s right. But, people, I’m clown and balloon adverse. Anyhow, August was a soft opening and I been cramming hours in my personal sweat shop erm, studio to be ready for September. “Studio” sounds so pretentious coming from me. I bristle at it like I bristle at the label “writer”. But, that’s another neurotic blog post, for another angst driven day.
Worked up? WHO ME? Never. I’m Southern, we don’t let people know they’ve gotten to us. Unless they commit tremendous acts of hubris, and then we swear like drunken sailors on shore leave (or we get stupid and blog about it. Ok, that’s just me.). Let’s laugh for a few moments over that bit of sarcasm, shall we? I’m a riot.
September has dawned bright and cheerful and sunny and I’m wondering, maybe the Universe is confused about what hemisphere we live in! It’s so summery here this week, I pity all those kids going back to school. My child is plotting his eventual overthrow of world governments. Don’t ask. Something about recruiting “agents” and things I shouldn’t know.
Me, I’m just having mild panic attacks over the fact that I’m officially open. Not soft, not tentative, not kidding! My ad on Modish is running, my spotlight was today. She called me romantic. That’s not my name. And now the Ting Ting reference is making sense! (Cap, I know you were with me the whole way.)
I’d like to think I have an edge. But if Mireio is any indication, there is an inner girly girl somewhere beneath all my self delusion. IZ is fond of saying, “How Anthropologie of you”. I can’t help it. I like pretty. Dang it. Maybe I should throw in a few expletives in my descriptions to throw people off.
It shouldn’t bug me. But you know, it does. It’s funny how we have visions of ourselves that we really don’t live into. Beyond our fantasies of being supermodels, fantastic drummers in a rock band, celebrity wives of celebrity men; beyond Nobel prize winner, beyond chosen book of month writer on Oprah, beyond The Next President of These United States of America.
No, deeper delusion. Subtle; our fingers fanned wide, sticky, thrust out before us into a web of labels, we attach all those words we find appealing. Gluing them to our psyches just as securely as the labels on our jeans. Smart. Funny. Cool. Brilliant. Innovative. Social. Thin. Attractive. Compassionate. Wise.
It’s not that we aren’t those things in degrees. It’s that we have an investment in being so. There’s currency, social currency in being whatever it is we deem valuable. We find others who accept our bills of defense, and we spend, spend, spend. If there is any weakness in the human condition, it is that we are prone to find others of our kind who will tell us exactly what we want to hear. Our ability to lie to ourselves is immense. Never underestimate that little trait. To ignore our propensity for self-delusion is to court destruction, just as surely as Rome fell.
Deep down, we suspect our deceits. We know we’re frauds. But we’re hoping. We’re praying that we’re not. We would be wise to pay attention to that inner voice that challenges all those external voices of accolade, that questions the labels we and others have chosen for us. We would be wise; but most often, we are not.
A very wise adviser once gave me sound advice. He said, “Wende, for every word you put out there, you’ll find people willing to tell you how amazing you are. And your critics will jump in and tell you otherwise. Don’t be deluded by either.”  I suspect that most of us fall prey to one or the other. We either listen too closely to our fan clubs or absorb too much of our critics. Lord help those of us with inner critics equipped with megaphones. Heaven spare those whose sycophantic friends have elevated them to guru status.
It is an act of immeasurable willpower to strip away the labels, look ourselves in the mirror, and admit to ourselves that perhaps, just maybe, we have not lost our edge. Perhaps, just maybe, we never had an edge at all. Perhaps, just maybe, we’re simply pretty.
How Anthropologie of you! I love it. You’ve got to have the confidence to withstand the criticism but the good sense to take the fulsome praise with the proverbial “grain of salt.” At least that’s what I’ve always believed.
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What worries me most, is when we start believing our own hype. 😀 And yeah, isn’t that a funny thing for him to say. He mocks, gently tho! ~W
Sometimes I think that “edge” is over-rated. I’m off to take a look at your store — you did undersell it! 🙂 — I bet I’m going to love it. Maybe it’s Anthropologie that I can imagine actually owning! 🙂
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It probably is over-rated. However, you won’t judge me if I paint my nails black, right? 😀 ~W
An old friend told me last week that my quirks were what he loved about me because they are the makings of me. The way you are…well…those are the makings of you. Who else are you to be, but yourself? I like that you are genuine and just say what you mean. Why fluff it up when your store is awesome anyway?
P.S. Sorry I am dating your boyfriend. Or are you dating mine???? Hahahaha!
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Our boyfriend is busy. And if my balance in my bank account is any indication, he’s going to be seeing a lot more of MEEEEEEEEEE! ~W
Praise ~
Perfectly pretty products!! Priceless product profiles!!!
Pillory (proving paltry, piffling and perhaps “Palinesque”) ~
Pillow pockets for petite people prevention products??!*
*That’s not my name. ;~)
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They call you MOM. That is your name. 😀 ~W
And, if we have the courage to stand and look in the mirror and then sit down and court the stillness, and see us for who we are…what we are…perhaps we’ll see the magic in there too.
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Ah, the art of being. Life long quest, eh Sadie? 😀 ~W
Such a fabulous post. It really resonated with me today. One of the hardest things about moving to Portland from NYC was that I was kind of forced to reflect one of my personality traits… maybe an edginess, or a toughness… that I thought I had to have to make it in the big city, but that just wasn’t jiving here. I had to look deep down and see if my hard shell was just a product of me being me or if I was living up to a label I’d given myself long ago. What I thought was an innate part of me was actually a chosen way of walking through the world, and right now I’m choosing to drop it for a bit. (Man, that sounds so west coast.) I’m finding that I’m redefining who I am more than ever, and realizing, too, that some of my self descriptions are really way off base. You, however, are not off track when you say you have edge. I can feel that edge from here, girl.
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I hear you, I do. I think I cling to a few of my self definitions just a bit too closely. I grew up with that model. It’s a bit sad, really. When we did things a certain way (typically against the norm) it was said, “that’s our way”. Our last name became synonymous with difficult or maverick or weird, depending on who was doing the defining.
But I think it’s bunk. I think we hind behind our labels. It’s convenient. And I do think there is something liberating to finding our selves stripped bare of it all. Dropping all our preconceived notions of who we are and just BEING.
And yes, that does sound delightfully west coast of you. 😀 ~W
Love it! Did I see one of the pillows on kirtsy? I only wish I had the eye for design that you do. Best of luck with your ad campaigns!
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Oh, thanks Michelle!! I don’t know if you saw me on kirtsy—one of my travel pillows was blogged about, so I guess it’s possible. I’d love to know. 😀 ~W
I’ve decided it’s okay not to be edgy. I’m
41not a kid anymore. And I was never that edgy to begin with.You know who you are – and that’s not half the battle, it’s the whole war 😀
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I’ve been thinking a lot about language lately. The way we pick our words. That, and the theme of self delusion really cuts home, right now. Can we, do we ever get to the point where we see ourselves as we truly are? Not the labels we attach. Not the labels we were born with, or assumed, or superglued to our souls. Just us. No smoke.
And I’ve been sitting with the notion, that we can believe the hype of our parents, or friends, or families forever. We can seriously walk through life, constantly deluded. Either paralyzed by our lack or addicted to our need to be needed, our desire to be something special. I just wonder, do we really ever stop being 5.
Where were you when they were publishing the J. Peterman catalog? And underneath all that glorious verbage there’s a creative spirit and common sense. I’m off to the shop. And I need to call Mom.
(I’m fascinated with your buttons.)
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I was in High School. I never saw the J.Peterman catalog. But I did get the Banana Republic version, back in the day before they were owned by Gap. They too had amazing descriptions with hand-drawn pictures instead of product photos. Back in the day, I very much wanted a job writing those descriptions! Clearly, it sunk in, eh? 😀
I read this post yesterday but had to let it percolate overnight before I could come back to comment. A friend once said to me, about herself, “I know who I am.” Those words have came back to me over and over again through the years. I keep wondering if I know who I am, or if I am just fooling myself with the labels that I have chosen.
HEY. STOP MAKING ME THINK SO HARD.
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I suppose that wasn’t very Anthropologie of me, eh? 😀 ~W
This post makes me laugh.. just because of my self proclaimed “Bitter” moniker and all the baggage that comes with it. I have had a couple of quick reviews by people who don’t really read my blog that say that I am not at all bitter, and they were actually disappointed.
It’s not a label.. it is a flavor. And as we grow older tastes change.
I’d be happy with pretty and witty..To me, that sounds just great.
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I love that, “it’s not a label. . . it’s a flavor!” Hee. 😀