Typically, I'm really not a terribly dramatic person (unless my husband and I are discussing the importance of not keeping five different pairs of his cast-off shoes in the living room). I don't do a lot of head-to-toe black ensembles because they actually make me feel rather unlike myself. And while one should probably feel closer to unnoticeable in an all black outfit, I kind of feel like I'm actually yelling "hey! look at me! I'm wearing something unusual!" with my clothes. But fashion as a form of self-expression is inspired by not getting stuck in a rut. So I present to you: Rebecca wearing all black, on a lovely spring day.
I feel like a very sexy version of Emily Dickenson here, which is mainly how I make sense of my decision to give all black a try. Emily and I go way back. To the beginning of my life, actually, because I was born on her birthday a mere 150 years after she herself was born. Side note: I'm not much of a mathematician, but 150 is such a neat and tidy number that Emily and I must surely have something significant going on.
I also feel a bit like a raven, which is probably something Emily Dickenson wrote poems about at some point (well, not THE raven poem...I know that wasn't her, people). I'm like this spooky black bird saying "um, who let these gorgeous cherry trees bloom?"
I love the Victorian fascination with the macabre, and how that was juxtaposed against a very ornate, very social outward appearance. For this moment, let that be me. Breathe in the beauty of spring and consider what place an all black ensemble has in this season when blooming rebirth abounds.
American Apparel dress (old) // Vince Camuto boots (old) // Vivienne Westwood bag (old) // Oliver Peoples sunglasses