Who do you get dressed for? My honest answer is: my-husband-to-be. Also: some amazing new street photographer just waiting to take a photo of me. I've not met either of these people yet, but that does not deter me. I know they're out there and I don't want to be looking anything less than adorable the first time they set eyes on me. So I dress very carefully every morning because I don't yet know what the circumstances of our meeting will be. I could be queuing for coffee behind the man I'm going to marry, or walk past the next Bill Cunningham on my way to work. The former scenario has not yet happened and the latter is unlikely.
I have not met many visionary photographers hanging out on the skeezy end of Hobson St. You never know your luck though, do you? Life is magnificently random, and it's easier to surrender to the tides of fate when you're dressed to meet your destiny.
Here's a little secret: clothes are dependable, destiny isn't. Fate has yielded neither Bill Cunningham nor a fiancé yet, but that doesn't faze me. When you dress to meet your destiny, happiness becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.
It takes me 20 minutes to walk to work in the morning. On a good day, when I'm looking put-together, I'll get an average of three smiles from strangers on my way.
I first noticed this last summer, when the weather was golden and I was wearing bright colours every day. I was going in for head scarves around that time, too, so the overall look was arresting; Erykah Badu-meets-Frida Kahlo.