Time of Night.

There are certain things that happen in a gal’s life that move her to write:

When she notices something from her astute observations, when she has an intense experience that causes her to become engulfed in her emotions, conversations she’s had with friends and foes alike about subjects ranging from sex, loneliness, work drama, life, and being an adult, and when the pent up sentences become too much and she’s dying to get them on paper and out of her head.

And then there are times where she’s inspired to write by the way a store is displayed, or the way a tree looks in the fall, or even how a honey lavender macaroon is presented in its case.

Just like above, there are also certain times of day when she’s moved to write more than others.

Or should I say night?

Alone in her room, fairy lights casting a moody shade that splashes across her rack of colorful clothes and snapshots of her life hanging on the wall, she climbs into bed in her 1950’s nightgown and it seems the words have an easier time pouring out of her.

Call it the liquid courage (usually a cup of Handsome James tea, don’t get too excited), or the vulnerability of being alone with her thoughts in a creative and introspective mood with little to no distraction, but when the sun goes down and she settles in for the evening, a conversation between her and paper often follows suit.

There’s actually a whole topic about being the most creative at night and getting the best ideas at the worst times.

Basically, when we’re tired, alone and in the dark (basically me every night) our brain filters out information (ridding us of our inhibitions) which causes us to wander into the unknown, letting our imagination wander into deeper depths. Without the distraction of Netflix, my roommates, and the sights and sounds that surround me in the daylight, I am left with my thoughts and my thoughts alone.

It’s also proven by science.

In Leyman’s terms, during the day, we burn through dopamine, which is housed in the frontal cortex of our brain. By the end of the day, it starts losing steam and processing slows down. Without this STOP sign being on high alert processing our thoughts, our brain ends up running wild with these passing and unfiltered thoughts and as a result, creativity is more likely to flow. 

Science.

What I’m getting at is that one should utilize this precious time and not let it go to waste.

Too often, I cast it away because I’m “too tired”, or I think I’ll remember it in the morning (which we all know we never remember), and I lose this precious opportunity to connect with myself and my creative spirit.

It also happens to be the best time for picking out my ensemble for the next day, which is what you’ll see below.

And it’s all backed by science.

Let’s Taco Bout It.

Are you dressed for a fiesta? the old woman asked me whilst I waited in line for the bathroom.

It was a Saturday night and my first thought wasn’t in regards to my colorful ensemble, but to the fact that I couldn’t remember the difference between a fiesta and a siesta.

Did she mean a nap? Or a party?

I would’ve dressed for the occasion, either way.

In response, I replied honestly:

Nope! I’m just out having tacos with my friends.

There we were, my friends and I  sitting at the hip bar at Joe’s Taco Lounge in Mill Valley.

Returning to this so called “lighthouse in the storm” that saved Marissa and I from our adventurous hike on Mount Tam a few weeks ago, we decided to return, having had such a wonderful time eating there before.

Located on the corner of Montford and Miller Avenue, Joe’s Taco Lounge is the warmest, most colorful Mexican joint with kitschy decor and some truly delicious tacos.

Simply put, it was the perfect occasion for me to dress up.

Pulling together inspiration from the colorful string lights outside, the Mexican influence, and lively furnishing, I walked out the door wearing heels, red salsa pants, an off the shoulder top, pom pom necklaces, and Frida Kahlo hair.

Apparently dressed for a fiesta!

Although given looks with raised eyebrows and questions that concerned the whereabouts of my outfit’s destination, it was all something I had heard before.

Why are you so dressed up? Are you going to a party?

All too familiar, and yet I continue to walk out the door in a ballgown, even if it’s going to the grocery store.

You see, I believe style is intinsically linked with the psyche. Mirrors reflect images and images reflect self-expression. What I put on my body everyday is my outer wrapping to who I am on the inside, how I feel, and the message I want to send to the world.

It’s my unspoken language and it’s how I visually present myself to the world, my personal and distinctive brand. It also happens to be my greatest sources of self-confidence.

Whenever I need a boost, I slip into something frilly, something incredibly extra, and doll myself up, making an uneventful and rather boring occasion into something fancy and splendid.

Don’t have an occasion? Make your own.

Dress has become incredibly lazy and used for the wrong reasons as of late. With the change in cultural lifestyle and the popularity of social media,  “style” has often been misrepresented online. See, instead of people celebrating who they are on the inside and then letting that shine on the outside, it has been portrayed by people who present themselves to be someone they’re not. They let that image define them from the outside, not the other way around. Fashion shouldn’t define us, it should amplify who we are to begin with.

But we won’t go down that rabbit hole today!

The message I want to taco bout with you is that life is too short to wear boring clothes. What you put on your body does have an influence on not only how people perceive you, but how you perceive yourself.

I forgot how good it felt to dress up for the simplest of occasions and I’m excited to recconect with my closet and communicate to the world who I am.

I eventually returned to my table where my friends and I proceeded to chow down on some tacos. Laughing and enjoying the ambiance around us, we had a marvelous evening and I got to shell-ebrate the opportunity that allowed me to dress up in the first place.

Fiesta or not.