A Wicked Sense of Style

There are roughly 7 billion people in the world ... that's a whole, whole, whole lot of people, eh? And when I think about the grandiose enormity of that number, I have a difficult time wrapping my mind around the fact that no two of that staggering number of people are the same. Not even identical twins are exactly the same ... though in appearance, it may be difficult, if not almost impossible, to tell them apart, their personalities will vary in at least some small ways. Think about that for a minute, our personalities ... the part of us that makes us really us ... is different than the personality of any other person on the planet. And one of the ways our differing personalities often find expression is through our clothing ... what we wear and how we wear it speaks to our own uniqueness and inner being, if you will ... an outward statement of the inward personality that it reflects.

Take my three children, for example ... from the time Matt was old enough to have an opinion about what he wore, his choices on clothing always gravitated to the more preppy, Gap-like clothing. In his teenage years, there was nothing on earth that pleased him more than a shopping spree to Abercrombie & Fitch ... I wonder how many hours we spent in that store over the years ... hmmm ... hours of clothes shopping ... the things a loving parent does for her children, eh? My daughter-in-law sent me a photo last week of Matt holding C.J. as he prepared to head off to teach his first class for this semester at the university. He and my beautiful granddaughter could have easily been posing for a special father/daughter edition of GQ magazine ... C.J. decked out in a navy polka dot dress, looking like the world's most beautiful genius baby ... oh, wait, she is the world's most beautiful genius baby. Her daddy, Dr. Mattie, was sporting black dress pants, a crisp lime green shirt and plaid tie, looking quite handsome, intelligent and professorial. It shouldn't have surprised me that Matt chose a career as a professor ... that boy has always rocked the shirt and tie look for sure.

When Meghann was a little girl, she loved everything sparkly ... dresses, shoes, jewelry, hair bows ... you name it, and if it sparkled or glittered, my little girl loved it. In her teenage years, Meg became sort of an enigma to me in the clothing department ... there were times when she would have it no other way but to wear girly, frilly dresses and shoes, but then there were other times when she wore sweats and flip-flops for almost every occasion. And the thing is that Meghann is one of those gals who is just truly beautiful ... no matter what she wears, she is a gorgeous young woman with mesmerizing blue eyes, flowing blonde hair and a figure to die for. I've often told her that she could wear a potato sack and make it look like a million dollar fancy gown. Speaking of gowns ... I will never forget when I accompanied my daughter as she tried on wedding gowns. For those of you who are moms with daughters who will one day get married, I have a word of advice for you ... nothing in your lifetime will prepare you for the moment you first see your daughter in a wedding gown ... absolutely nothing. I've thought a great deal about Meghann's style when it comes to clothing, and as I prepared to write this post, it struck me that Meghann is comfortable in a wide range of apparel, from sweat pants to sparkly dresses, because it's my daughter who makes the clothes look good and not the other way around.

And then there's Bradley ... yes, and then there's Bradley. When he was a little guy, Brad liked to dress in costumes and pretend to be different characters ... I've written about that before, stating that I think Brad's beginnings as a filmmaker can easily be traced back to his days of throwing himself into various roles through dress-up and make-believe. As he became a teenager, thankfully Brad outgrew wearing costumes ... unless, of course, you count dressing up as a pirate or a greaser in high school musicals ... and began to embrace a style that is ... well ... a style that all his own. Brad's choice of attire consists of three main items: jeans (or shorts in the summer), a t-shirt with some sort of logo on the front (or long-sleeve waffle shirts in the winter) and a ball cap (seasons don't matter with ball caps, by the way, they work year-round) and I suppose his ever-present sneakers (or flip-flops in the summer) would be the fourth key ingredient to Brad's look. He only buys new clothes or shoes when he absolutely has to ... for example, he had this pair of orange Puma sneakers that he wore for more than 10 years (thank you, Shelby, for convincing him they just had to go!). Brad might disagree, but when I look at him, I see a guy who cares way more about the way the art he is crafting is presented than he does about what the artist behind the camera is wearing. And I just so happen to think that's a pretty darned cool thing ... yep, I surely do.

Brad and I have been working for the last several months on a special project together, and last night we attended a banquet to capture some footage of one of the key characters in the film. I couldn't help but chuckle when I arrived at Brad's house to pick him up, and he came outside to greet me wearing ... yep ... shorts, a t-shirt, ball cap and sneakers. I, on the other hand, had on black dress pants, a purple shirt and snazzy bow tie, and of course, suspenders and my black shiny shoes. I'm sure the folks in the restaurant where we ate dinner thought we were quite the odd-looking duo and wondered what in the world we were doing. At the banquet, when the gentleman we were filming introduced me, he made some very kind remarks that brought tears to my eyes. But when he said that I have "a wonderful spirit and a wicked sense of style," I couldn't help but laugh out loud. Me ... the gal who almost has a heart attack when I know I have to attend a fancy function because I stress over what to wear. Me ... the gal who begged a friend to go shopping with me to buy clothes for the office Christmas party last year. Me ... the gal who is so not confident in putting outfits together that I often take options with me to work so that other people can tell me what works and what doesn't. Yep ... me ... that gal ... he said I've got a wicked sense of style. 

While I chuckled at his words about my style, the gentleman said some other words later in the evening that burned themselves into my mind and I am certain they will never leave. My eyes filled with tears as he spoke about how close I came to taking my life last year and he said, "The thought of Brad Johnson receiving a call last year telling him his precious mother was dead haunts me." Driving home in the dark late last night after dropping Brad off at his house, I said aloud in my dark and quiet car ... "I never thought back then about those words ... those phone calls to my kids. I thought they would be better off without me ... that coping with my death would be easier for them somehow than overcoming the shame and embarrassment they would feel if I told the truth about who I am. I never thought back then about the phone calls to my kids."

I was so proud of my son last night ... proud of his heart, proud of his passion for his work, proud of his determination to pursue his dream ... I was so very proud of his unconditional love for me. Words are simply futile sometimes ... there are none that are sufficient to express how grateful I am to be alive today ... how blessed I am to have such amazingly awesome children who love me. They love me ... they love the real me ... with my wicked sense of style and everything else that makes me who I am. And my deepest hope, strongest desire and most fervent prayer is that they know ... that they know with every fiber in their being ... how very, very much I love them.