I dress like a feeling made visible—
a patchwork of moods,
a palette of soft rebellions.
Bright chaos,
rarely in muted tones,
a character I choose and become
without ever losing myself.
I enjoy outfits that take up space,
that demand my attention for their greatness,
that make me grow tall
from feeling so good.
I enjoy vintage for its story,
for its worn‑in feeling—
a hug of love.
I have no single signature look.
I embrace happiness—
dopamine hits in fabric blasts.
Who could choose just one
when there is so much to try?
A uniform is the conform,
but fashion is freedom.
I get to be who I want to be
that day.
If I had to choose a style,
it would be flowers—
because whether I’m a rose
or a hydrangea
(the tiniest bloom versus the biggest),
I’m organic,
with added makes and stitches.
I breathe new life into old things,
and I can accessorise the everyday
into uniqueness.
I was meant to shine,
not wallflower.

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