This morning, I was making my usual head-long charge from Starbucks to the office, teetering in my heels with a cup of coffee in one hand and an overstuffed bag sliding down the opposite shoulder. Perched on the curb at Massachusetts and Dupont Circle, I blew hair out of my eyes and looked down at my green suede gloves.
Green suede gloves! I thought. That’s pretty badass, right? I mean, most people have black gloves or brown gloves or sometimes even red gloves, but green? Suede? I’m a rebel!
I’ve always hung out on the conservative, conformist end of the life spectrum. Shh, we’re being too loud! Stop, the rules say no! People are looking! I love turtlenecks! Oooh, and cable knits! It took me years to embrace boot-cut jeans, for chrissakes. Smoking was my one rebellion, my devil-may-care middle finger to sensible-ness and responsibility. So you can see why the gloves are a bit of a thing…
There have been moments when I’ve desperately wanted to rebel and as I’ve gotten older and more comfortable with myself, I’ve actually done it from time to time. It’s a liberating feeling which, I like to believe, feels more intense because of the infrequency with which I enjoy it…like whiskey.
In some ways, my big rebellion will occur at the end of the month, when I will go against years of tradition and spend only four days at home for Christmas before winging off for an amazing vacation with a dear friend. Not being at home for the week between Christmas and New Year’s is a huge departure for me and I’m already feeling a bit guilty. But it’s been a tough few months and I need this, so I’m doing it. Rebel!