#appreciationpost

One of the few things I do not understand at all are the fashion and beauty industries. Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration because it would mean I understand a little bit of everything else but the fashion stuff, which is a lie. It’s not like I understand microbiology or economy either. Lemme phrase it differently.

Of all the things I wish I understood, the fashion industry is something I have never been able to comprehend. 

Five years ago when I was a high-schooler (oh my, don’t I sound old) parting your hair down the middle was gross and a thing you dreaded but had to do for school, loose denim pants were so old fashioned and hair clip things (the ones that go click?), were for children. And now, I have celebrity news on my feed about mom-jeans and boyfriend-jeans and everyone on social media with their hair parted down the middle with clips on. Apparently it’s cute now.

I’d have been the most fashionable trendsetter ever if only I'd been born half a decade late. I sure lucked out.

But today, I wanna write about supermodels and Victoria’s Secret models and people who walk the runway. Basically, about people who model and how I have a newfound appreciation for them. (Not in the perverted way. If you’re here for the salacious deets, you’re not in the right place.)

I have spent a majority of my life disliking my body and struggling with image because of the said modeling/fashion industry. Felt terrible that I felt the need to look like them and despising them for setting unhealthy body and beauty standards that people feel the need to conform to. (But I realize it is as much my fault as it is the media’s. Representation and inclusion do matter. I also know that I am what I read, but it’s hard to ignore all the shiny stuff.)

What I have failed to appreciate is how fierce these men and women are. How they smile through pain and perform. I know it’s in the job description, but I couldn’t do it even if it was for a million dollars. And that’s a fact.

This all started on one of my frequent adventures on the internet. Past my usual recommendations of- John Green talking about achieving his goals in 2020 (Nerdfighteria, anyone?) and Gordon Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares, popped up a recommendation from a channel that focuses on creating ‘funny compilations’ about runway models falling over mid-show.

And having the characteristic personality of one who loves drama, I was one minute into the video in the blink of an eye. Prepared to mentally scoff and rant, the entire unhealthy beauty standards spiel, I soon realized that my whole perspective was coming undone right in front of my eyes.

I watched as beautiful men and women, slipped and tripped and fell. As women walked down slippery looking floors with barely any traction, in high heels that looked like elegant death contraptions. Of how they got entangled in their own flowy props and glitter, how some of them lost single shoes to stage décor, fell off the stage and crumpled onto their knees. And in the end each one of them got up and kept going. They hauled themselves up, waved at the audience with smiles on their faces and kept freaking walking. 

Imagine this, you’re in tiny freakin underwear, wearing a pair of prop wings and in front of a massive audience, of which a large portion are humans who woke up that morning just to come see you, so that they could publish criticism about you. And one of your fancy, ten-inch heels decides that it likes the stage prop more than your feet and abandons you mid walk, making you fall onto your knees. Plus imagine all the cameras flashing and broadcasting your fall. 

I don’t know about y’all, but I would have sobbed and run away blindly, probably fallen off the stage too. I would’ve died of shame and sat there and let my fear consume me whole. But yesterday, I watched women who went through the same and kept walking with their heads held high. Some completed their walk wearing a single shoe. They were human too. But their ability to be fierce and keep going. To be bold and confident even if they were having a melt-down on the inside is brave. And I wanted to acknowledge that.

Acknowledge that my perception was built on my inability to see things differently and look past my own clouded opinions based on my self esteem issues. It was enlightening to say the least. Maybe all of y’all already knew this and I’m late to the game, but I’m glad I’m here now.

A/N: Happy new year, people. Here’s to the hope that this year isn’t my last. ^-^

(The pandemic has been hard on me, please ignore my cynicism.) 

copyright©️2020 Mnemoyne
picture credits: https://www.pexels.com/@inga-sv