I love this. First of all, if you haven’t checked out nicoleloher, you should. She’s really great.

Second of all, I absolutely feel this way. I can tell you exactly what I was wearing on Sept. 11 (a purple sweater and khaki skirt) and what I wore to my best friend’s father’s funeral (a black wrap dress). And I can tell you that I’ve never worn those outfits again after those days. I can also tell you I especially like wearing a certain Mizzou sweatshirt because an old love said he liked it on me. He probably doesn’t even remember saying it. But on the most heartbreaking days, and the sweetest, and the ones in between, clothes are how you armor yourself to get through it all. And sometimes the memories stick, you know?


Nostalgia with photos; Nostalgia with clothing

This sort of this is always really difficult to talk about. You either get it or you don’t. My life has been moving so quickly over the past few months, jumping from one project to the next, I haven’t really had the time to “sit down and reflect” on how things are actually going. I’m happy, don’t get me wrong. However, for the first time since the pace has picked up, I’m actually feeling a bit of achy nostalgia and wishing I could go back in time. I look at the photos Noah took of me for Rugby and they were simply amazing. The smile I flashed to the camera for this photo was a genuine smile – I was so happy. Today I came across the shirt I’m wearing in the photo but in my own laundry. I will never be able to get rid of it because of the emotional sentiment that comes along with it. “Rugby gave me this. Noah shot me in this. I battled a snowstorm in this dress.” It’s a weird feeling to look at a piece of clothing in a basket and feel something that I’ve only ever felt with photos – that achy nostalgia. Maybe I’m alone in that, but who knows.

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