WHO CARES?

A little girl came into work. She was the epitome of that 90's renaissance thing worn by girls reliving it for the first time, the ones that refer to  that 90s as 'vintage'. You know the ones right? Her Nike high-tops perfectly unmatched her floral tea dress, offset by her unruly hair (which nowadays goes by the synonym 'beach waves'). She was in a word: cool. Which was made even more so by the fact that she had painted her face. She walked around without a care in the world. Forget red in the face, this little one was all shades of pink and purple. I envied that level of assurance. It wasn't confidence, confidence signifies self-awareness. The only thought behind her rainbow face was that she liked it. It got me to thinking, when did we stop not caring? 

I don't want to go all Peter Pan and evince the positives of staying young forever, this isn't a trip down memory lane or a ten step course to full reversion. Heck I wouldn't want to relive the hormonal imbalances, acne eruptions and all those awkward teenage things that we try to forget. But there are certain aspects that I wish could be reawakened, namely a true sense of 'I don't give a f*$k'. 

(This is fashionable face painting don't you know)

That same day I read about an uncle who wore a dress to the cinema so that his niece wouldn't be embarrassed about wearing her princess dress outside too. His selfless act struck a nerve. Surely she was too young to care about what people thought? Perhaps it signified a wider concern, that of the damaging affects such ideals, that society purports as the norm, are having on the youth of today? We're so self-conscious and self-critical and self obsessed, but is it our fault that we're like this? Or is it a collective strain that has been nagging at us, convincing us that skinny isn't skinny enough (to quote Moss, "nothing tastes as good as skinny feels" wonder how she'd feel if someone repeated that mantra to her daughter...) that blondes have more fun, that a nip and tuck is more conducive to self-acceptance and that no matter how great we are, flaws are the loudest thing in the room? 

Did this uncle just give his niece back the gift of childhood? That innocence, that time when you can wear what you want and thus be whoever you want, because, well just because. As we grow up we look for reasons, justifications, continually analysing every minutiae  - mostly internally - like a one man (or woman) game of tennis. It's a battle with yourself just to be yourself. In a society where first impressions are based off of selfies, profile pictures and 140 character summaries, it's almost impossible to believe in anything of substance;- and without sounding too much like an episode of Barney - to believe in ourselves. 

(Ok, it doesn't have to be that bad...)

We all have a veritable 'princess dress' that we refuse to wear because we continually cast ourselves in the role of the pauper; self doubt is a bitch like that. And yes, we may not all have an uncle willing to don a dress for us, but can't we be the champion of our own tale? 

(All images unknown)