DAY 580

in {and out} Week 16: Spring Selfie

I´ve been wearing mostly black, since January. In fact, during all these months I have only worn black or grey sweaters with jeans or black leggings; black jackets and anoraks;  black high leg boots with high heels, flat short boots or ankle boots; black, ochre or grey scarves and black or tortoiseshell sunglasses. The only exception to this rule has been a coat with a subtle animal print, silvery or golden accessories and pearls. I´ve been doing that not only because I felt very sad after some important losses, a few unfortunate events and many changes, but because I needed to feel strong and confident and and black always makes me feel this way, it´s good for me.

I think this fixation has its origins in my early life. When I was a girl, black was not considered an adequate color for kids. It was too formal or too gloomy but I always found it appealing. It was the color of grief, it´s true: the image of persons dressed in mourning is part of my childhood -in particular, widows-, but it also symbolized sophistication, elegance, allure and even certain intellectualness and a rebellious mood (at least, to me). So, as soon I could, I started to wear it and I felt much more refined and worldly-wise than I really was.

As a result, this color is a sort of thermometer that allows me to measure my mood. When I am happy and in high spirits, when reaffirming myself is not important and my charm and grace don´t concern me, when I feel strong enough and self-reliant, when I deal with life at ease and I am accepting it with joy... in short when I am well-balanced,  most of my black clothes stay inside my wardrobes. But if the need arises, I know I can always resort to them.

This time I thought I wouldn’t be able to stop wearing them. Talking with my mother a month ago or so, I mentioned this to her and she guaranteed me that the joy would be back now and again, even after her time to leave me come (she said). Her argument was plain and convincing: not one person would have survived if this were not true. I knew she was right (she had to confront the death of her husband, her mother, a sister and a brother apart from many other emotional losses within five years), so I prepared myself to wait.

As my mother predicted, joy is returning to my life little by little this spring. And so calm and acceptance are doing. When a week ago, I was a bit reluctant to wear black, I knew that it was the definitive sign of readjustment I had been waiting for. I still don´t feel like wearing very spring-like outfits, I still need black to go out there... specially to work, but when I go for a relaxed walk or while I am quiet at home with my journals I choose vibrancy. I choose faith. I choose hope.


This entry is part of a project I am developing with my friend Montse Gallardo. We´ll share a photo every week during 2015. Her photos will be always taken outside and my photos will be indoor shots only. We have created a Facebook page: In and Out. 52 weeks where you can see all the photos of the project.