Embarking

The label says BoHo Chic. I am seriously drawn to the colors and the flowing shape. I pull it off the rack. At least I can carry it around for awhile and imagine what my life might be like if I dared to wear clothing like this.

My look is the buttoned-up, timeless classic Ralph Lauren type. I’ve patterned myself after those “put-together” women who never have a hair out of place; the lacquered doll look of perfection that I’ve gone for but never quite fully achieved. I’ve sought jobs with respectable titles and respectable salaries where I am expected to wear respectable clothes so I blend in, so I fit the mold.

The left side of my brain can handle that kind of job. My right brain tolerates it badly for about two years, then shuts down. I quit the job and immediately look for its identical twin and dive in for another two years. I’ve been doing that all my life.

So what is it about this garment with the label that screams Bohemian bad taste? Why am I so drawn to it’s “out of the box” colorful, creative flair? What would a life be like that could wear such fun, funky clothes?

Since my last birthday I’ve had an acute awareness of the tiny pebbles sifting through the wasp-waist middle of the hourglass. Each grain represents a moment of my life that I can never call back. Inside of me are unexplored places. There’s a wannabe redhead who writes protest songs and plays the guitar. She cares about the planet, global warming, and sustainable living. She doesn’t wear makeup unless she wants to, but she still shaves her legs. She will always shave her legs! She’s the one who loves this label I’m carrying around. She’s the one who would dare to wear it and live boldly. She’s my right brain.

What am I waiting for? What is so terrifying about living a right brain life? I don’t have forever. Already I sometimes wonder if I shouldn’t be shopping for those saggy polyester pants with the elastic waists and shapeless shirts with pink and blue flowers. At my age, after all, I have a new peer group to blend into! But there’s something about “blending” that sticks in my throat. Blending makes right brain redhead’s skin crawl! “No more blending!” she howls and I know she’s right!

I look down at the BoHo Chic draped over my arm. It seems to embody the life I crave. “You’ll never wear it,” say’s left lobe. “Get a life!” says redheaded right. Well, it’s a start. I walk to check-out digging for my wallet. “Love the shirt!” says the clerk. “So do I,” I reply. “So do I.”