The scarf that circled around her neck and gently leaned forward at a vertical distance from her nose, reminded me of the uneven road whereby I desired to wander through. Its colors were a fireplace that offered the most eminent shelter from the coldness of the surroundings, leaning towards tenderness rather than vividness. It was a road where both its length and width were undefined, and though it was polyester-made, it was concrete for me, worn for its age, but not for its often travels.
And then there was her dress, average in form, yet mystical in pigment. Its color was a dark turquoise, becoming a sky that could be perchance confused for earth due to its similarity to green. The sky’s interaction to nature was mutinous and ever-changing; both of their colors became so similar, their essence thoroughly collided one with the other creating a shade so uniquely diverse, causing them, the sky and nature, to convert to one. However, for her dress did not only symbolize a mystical correlation within two of the most powerful matters on Earth, but an individual that was willing to dissolve into these two forces. An individual willing to disappear to become anonymous and chameleonic through the means of minimalism. The sky is a multi-polar being that depends on location to be more predictable, hence being able to signify humanity as a whole in terms of its environment, or how one acts accordingly to their surroundings. And as a composite of humanity, there’s me, an individual willing to sacrifice its identity to become dispersed into the unforeseen, a life I am not accustomed to.
And then there were her shoes. For the common individual they would appear as humble ways of walking, but for me they were that antique Midwestern truck that picked up all the uncanny hitchhikers, and hopeful ranchers. They were yellow oxford-like shoes that had a broken platform, which was that broken truck window that sacrificed itself for the sake of travel. Yellow, a color vivid enough to embody that yearning for adventure.
And then there was her collection of bracelets. All unusual to one another, as there were none with a harmonious relationship. Rarely, however, they accentuated her outfit correctly, enhancing to the astuteness of the ensembles as a whole, given that they were all uncorrelated things that created a marvelous one. The bracelets were the irregular events encountered throughout the journey that contributed to its complete richness.
And then there it was, the lady with the unusual outfit walking past the street in that common concrete as I contemplated her fashion. Her physical appearance was not mesmerizing, but rather it was the conjunction of these distinctive items of clothing that made her essence so unique and poorly monotonous. Amidst jeans, suits and a lot of black, inconsistency caught my eye, as in a world were only the daredevils are unafraid of the unanticipated, it was quite uncommon for a person to have such an attire. And it was not one that many admired and found amusing, but for me its complete alignment resembled a masterpiece and a journey I wished to live. In her clothing I saw the person I temporarily craved to be.