strictly sidewalk

I went through a phase in my youth when I wore vintage clothes and cowboy boots. It had nothing to do with horses or cows, but might have had something to do with boys.

I lived in Taos, New Mexico at the time and I remember wanting desperately to be exotic. My best friend had long curly black hair, beautiful tan skin, and the most exquisite cheek bones imaginable. Since I couldn't look like her, I wore what she wore, but it never felt quite right.

I've struggled over the years with what my own style might be. I thought I had it figured out a few years ago and then my life changed and my wardrobe doesn't seem to match. I guess I'm still a work in progress.

The series starts here.