Alter Egos

          At first glance, you might not peg me as a comic book nerd, but under these hip glasses and peplum skirts I have an unending love for all things superhero. As a little girl, I sat close to the screen, enamoured by the old Superman movies, and just how suave the Man of Steel could be. Along with the usual candy and small toys, Santa tucked comic books into my Christmas stocking. Throughout grade school, I pretended I was the Pink Ranger at recess while everyone else was a Spice Girl (granted, those ladies are superheroes of another caliber, but I digress). My love has followed me into adulthood. My brother and I have lengthy conversations about the newest movie adaptions and how closely they follow original plot lines. I've read and dissected various graphic novels with fellow enthusiasts, weighing literary merit against the element of sheer fantasy. I count down to Free Comic Book Day, and yes, I've become extremely fascinated with the costumes. (This is a fashion blog; did you honestly think I wouldn't mention the tights and spandex?)
          I think what gets me about a super suit is not the constricting construction, the heavy use of primary colors, or the recent popularity of the utility belt. What gets me about a super suit is how it can change a person, how it can advance a person from seemingly normal human being to something spectacular. Superman can't fly without his cape, Iron Man is toast without his armor, and Bruce Wayne is just a pretty boy doing push ups without all of those gadgets. And Alfred. I'm convinced he'd be dead without his butler bestie.
          After thinking about it more and more, I decided that super suits and their transformative powers aren't just found in the pages of first editions or on brightly-lit movie screens. They're in our own closets. I have this theory that we all have fashion alter egos. We have these signature looks that we love, our own Clark Kent getup complete with ill-fitting tweed jacket, thick-rimmed glasses, and awkward disposition around the opposite sex. It's what the outside world sees us in, and is most comfortable seeing us in. However, deep down we all have this other identity that is significantly different from the stylish role we play on most occasions. This look is completely foreign to our friends and loved ones; we would never display it in the light of day because we're certain they wouldn't understand. They'd shun us from society, intimidated by the power we've been harboring internally. We'd be labeled freaks and sent back to Krypton. If only they knew this secret side could save the city, maybe even the world!
          I want to reiterate that I am 100% behind having a signature look. It's the style you are most comfortable in, not only because it looks good on you but also because you, with all of those personal beliefs, opinions, and feelings, make the whole ensemble even better. In addition, we all know that those who feel good, look good. Suddenly, there's a whole lot of winning going on: you feel good because you're in your favorite outfit (which looks amazing on you in the first place, you fox) and because you feel good, your whole being shimmers with confidence, causing you to appear eighty-four thousand times more stylish to everyone who sees you. Soon, your picture shows up all glowing and chic on one of those street style blogs and Urban Outfitters designs their fall line around your ingenue image. You're a star, baby! You're a star!

          However, an epidemic of sorts is sweeping the sartorial part of our fine nation. Nay! A supervillian! (I like extending my metaphors as far as they will stretch.) I've been out shopping with my friends or flipping through the occasional Vogue, and she will point out something completely out of her usual style portfolio. She'll sigh as she wistfully paws the item saying, "God! I wish I could pull this off!"

       And to that, I find myself thinking why the hell not??  Answer: we are all so scared of our desires.  We live in a society of self-deprivation, self-denial. We've become passers. You pass up those delicious brownies in the cafe case or that second glass of wine because you think it's bad for you, because you're "trying to be good." You pass up buying those tickets to the concert you've been dying to see or the country you've been dying to visit because you know you should be saving your money for that ever threatening rainy day. You visit the same coffeehouses, bars, and clubs because they are familiar, they are safe.  The bleak reality of it all is that we're all waiting for something that may never actually happen. We're looking ahead, planning around uncertainty while we waste the moment that we have been given. Now, I'm not saying to take your life savings to Vegas, blow it all at the craps table, hook up with a midget stripper wearing a feather boa, and come home with chlamydia. No, no. What I'm saying is we have to let our freak flags fly every once and a while to feel truly powerful.

          Taking my own advice, I recently stepped into my metaphoric phone booth and changed into my super suit. Call it the Sandy affect or blame it on all that damn rock and roll I listen to but in the words of Allison Vernon-Williams, "I'm so tired of being good." My style alter ego is a cross between Bettie Page and a rockabilly baby. Both looks are all about rebellion. These biddies pulled away from the straight-laced sensibility of Christian Dior's New Look, which was defined by full a-line skirts and buttoned-up blouses. Think Grace Kelly in Rear Window, or Mad Men's Betty Draper in her entertaining finest.  The rockabilly style for women was adopted in order to show off the curves of the body that suffocating crinolines and long dresses hid from the male gaze. Everything was form-fitting. Both pants and skirts had high waists, producing a legs-for-days look. Stiletto heels made their mark, giving women a platform to stand strong on. The style is influenced by music, which was itself an enormous change from the crooners of the previous era. While some may argue these women were sexualized objects, I think differently. They were catalysts of change when women needed it most. The look allowed women (and men, frankly) to have fun, to feel powerful in their femininity rather than thinking it an inferior thing, something to demurely cover up. Women had a choice in how they wanted to present themselves. We should make like those rabble rousers and use our freedom of choice to the fullest. While I got a few weird looks and a lot of grief from rude men in the city, going out on the town in my secret identity was relieving. I felt free in my self-expression, and came to the full realization that I can take the chances I've always been afraid to take, in my fashionable life and otherwise.
          You've got to ease yourself into the waters of your alter ego. First, you have to find it. Look at the people you admire for their style. What is it about them that attracts you, beyond just what they're wearing? How does that shine through onto their clothing choices? Let's take the beautiful M.I.A. for example (another dream alter ego of mine). I admire her because she is outspoken, honest, and bad ass as all getout. She also has a strong hold on her cultural background, and tries to use her celebrity status for philanthropic good. In 2009, she declined being placed on People magazine's list of most beautiful people because Mother Theresa was never honored on the list. Her style mirrors these attributes in bright colors and significant volume, similar to the clothes in the Sri Lankan fashion circuit.
          Now, I'm not about to take pictures of my favorite lady rapper and try and find exact outfit replicas. However, I can risks and try to work some bolder shades and louder patterns into my everyday closet. I could even take it one step further and learn about my own heritage, and then see how those fashion elements resonate with me. It's all about exploration and bravery. If you're nervous, start small. Wear a simple top with beaded embellishment in homage to the flappers of the 1920s. With leather recently being on trend, it's the perfect time to throw on a jacket or a pair of boots and play around with punk. And a pearl necklace is a great gateway to becoming the spitting image of a beautiful 1950s debutante. Do what you want to do because there's no reason to wait around and try it later. Batman never hesitates to jump into full body spandex whenever the bat signal is flashed into the ominous night sky, and do you think Tony Stark gives a damn whenever someone gives him grief about his weird glowing artificial heart? No. He doesn't give a damn because he knows he's the shit. Be your own Tony Stark: wear what you want, drink whiskey, don't give a damn, and know you're the shit.