... I love to play dress-up. Not necessarily of the look-I'm-a-pretty-princess variety but more of the don't-mess-with-me-I'm-mafia or hug-me-I'm-glam-rock variety.
Guessing it has something to do with my mom's almost Victorian view of appropriate clothes. There's always five or six shirts that are never touched unless it's an extra special occasion, and not just because they cost as much as a kidney on the black market or are dry-clean only. Like the coconut-weave shirt back from the motherland or the really cool pin-striped vest.
So I've grown up giving importance to clothes.
And besides, it's easier to imagine yourself as something or someone more than just you when you can't recognize yourself in the mirror.
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