My dreams pivot and spin in sensational fashion inspiration.
A kaleidoscopic spectacle of lusty gold sequins, cream silks, emerald glistening gowns parade and prance down a runway lined with rejoicing sparklers.
I am there. Or a woman I wish to be me is present in an aliveness that mirrors the brilliance of the vivid dream.
She’s vivacious and unbridled in her expressive joy. She’s the hostess of the event, the MC, easily and excitedly narrating the show while standing tall in a terrific pair of fearless high-heels.
The sight of her awakens a dormant aspect of me. The sight of her makes my heart bloom with fresh and fabulous ideas for stylish outfits, lighthearted ensembles, creatively fun styles.
Snapshots from the dreamy fashion show camera-flash across my intuitive eye as I scan my closet and begin to instinctively reach and rearrange graphic tees with pencil skirts. I encourage a flirty match between hot pinks and tangerines. I introduce my tutu to my black leather jacket and the two get along beautifully!
My December dreams catapult a revitalized creativity that outwardly manifests in how I choose to express in dress, but beneath the surface stems a sign of deeper reclaiming, a hugged healing, a glittery thriving.
In Austin, over the past few years, I tucked away, placed in the back drawer, the creative inclinations toward shining out in color and my own unique personal style as a fear-motivated decision to protect, shield, fit in.
And now, the ice around that decision has been cracked, blown open, and there’s a rushing of riveting energy that wishes to dare and delight – curl the hair, brush lavender and pear twinkling shades on eyelids, stay and adorn in the frequency of joy with no apologies.
Showing up unapologetically delivers me to tonight’s Cold Full Moon in Cancer. As I read of her star-destined debut, I cuddle in periwinkle blues and warm rose-hued sweater tights. I feel comfortable in my skin, and this (the New Moon intimately knows) is a sacred journey.
The Cold Full Moon in Cancer presents energies that are far from aloofness, distance, isolation. Rather the Cold Full Moon offers the clear radiance of comfort, connection, a cultivation of coziness, of coming home to our passions, interests, the warmth of our own hearts.
So I return to reading, to curling up on the couch with my loved ones to worthily indulge in “Bridgerton” and coordinate with a friend in Connecticut to talk soon. I dissolve the internal grind of busyness and rope off this time after Christmas and before the New Year to sink into delicious restoration and a reveling of homing comforts.
And mostly, to revel in the homing comfort of being myself.
It’s not about what I wear. I don’t need to try to dress to impress or style an outfit that performs a certain idea of me. It’s all about feeling, and the Cold Full Moon kindly spotlights the energized embodiment I feel when I dress in the language of my December dreams, which vibrates at joy and takes shape today in a corduroy vest, a striped blue shirt and an old and favorite pair of jeans.