- VIP. An acronym so fierce it brings out the worst in people. Whilst it’s nice having those little letters on a ticket (I sure don’t mind them) it’s also not a signpost of being ‘someone’. Everyone’s someone. Perhaps, for some people, Vile Irritating Person is a much better definition of VIP.
Tonight, I went to the Designer Series 2 Runway Parade, as a part of Melbourne Spring Fashion Week. And not because of, but rather in spite of doing so, I realised a lot of things about myself. And other people. Things I knew, but maybe didn’t recognise.
And I’m not sure why tonight, of all the nights, of all the years, this realisation struck me, but it did.
- I realised that I’m not interested in standing out of the crowd because of the label on the inside of my dress. Or because of the size of my waist. Or the length of my hair. Or because of my seat number. I’m far more interested in standing out of the crowd because of the content kept between my ears. Because of what I do. Because of how I do it. Because of what kind of person I am.
- I realised that the only time I ever care about being in the front row is when my husband’s on a stage, singing into a microphone, with a piano under his fingertips or a guitar in his arms. Anything that is not that, is, quite simply, not that.
- I realised that smiles are facetious. None of the ones I got tonight bore any resemblance to the ones my dad shoots my way when I walk through his door for a visit. None of them come close to the ones my four year old nephew beams after playing tiggy, or wrestling on the couch. They are not filled with love or wit or admiration or cheek. They are hollow and devious and full of plots and plans.
- I realised that looks will only get you so far. The title on your business card will only get you so far. But the talent that you have speaks volumes. It’s about doing, instead of being. Using it, instead of showing it.
- I realised that most ‘things’ in life are overpriced. That true quality can’t be bought, it’s made, and you can’t put a price on things that are made. Nor can you place a value on things that matter – maybe not most of all – but in making your night just that little bit better;
- driving on an open road, music bouncing around your car, spurring you on,
- falling into a warm bed, wrapped in the arms of your lover,
- hot tea in a big mug,
- toast with honey and cinnamon,
- your feet sliding into ugg boots on a cold night
- I realised that glamour can only be had when you’re truly happy and content, and that nothing’s uglier than pretending to be so.
I realised that style lasts. Substance endures. And everything else just ends up in a pile on the floor, or filling the inside of a bin. And you make the choice as to where you want to go. Because of what you do. Because of how you do it. Because of what kind of person you are.