The past lives of my blue blouse

The morning I summoned you to talk, I needed a costume. Not to seduce you — if that were possible. To seduce myself into telling the truth. I stopped by a florist to breathe in some beauty and emerged with an armful of white lilies — enough to camouflage my face. On a whim, I bought a bottle of French champagne, to raise a toast — a victory., over myself. With twenty minutes to spare, I drove to the store of my favourite designer and tried on every outfit until I found the sheer navy blouse, with soft frills, a plunging neckline and a tie-up front. It felt extravagant buying such a piece for a casual coffee — to wear with blue jeans. How could I know I would wear that navy blouse a hundred times? When I needed to feel I could win despite the odds; in moments when the answers might terrify me; whenever I didn’t feel good enough to be truly seen.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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