WHERE DOES QUIRKY END AND MENTAL ILLNESS BEGIN?

I have been an incredibly SLOPPY dresser almost all of my life.

The 60's and 70's allowed the excuse of jeans and baggy T-shirts in the name of ‘freedom’ (just take away the cigarette in the photo to the left, and that's me). I was never involved in any social activity that demanded any other sort of attire. I could use drab and loose clothing to fade into the wallpaper, since for much of my young life I felt that it was where I belonged.

But moving into an office environment taught me to survive with two jackets, three skirts and a handful of tops. I could happily exist with three pairs of shoes (running, work and everyday), make-up was always minimal, my hair remained short, straight and while incredibly boring, infinitely manageable.

And I must admit I ADORE uniforms - no clothing class, concerns about color combinations and/or hemlines. Plus if FedEx and UPS guys weren't so quickly indentificable, we would have less time to check out their fantastic legs.

When “casual attire” came in, it took me a couple of jobs to learn my beloved jeans and baggy T-shirts were not it - however, khakis and knit tops did not require nylons or heels.

Wait a minute, where was I going with this?

Oh, yes - quirky vs. eccentric is wherein lies the dilemma (and I just love that word, dilemma - but when you say it like "dee-LEMMM-a!!").

I'm at the crossroads of my fashion (or lackthereof) life.

I am old enough that I am 1) not trying to attract any men, 2) am not moving forward professionally (understatement of the decade there, my friends) and/or 3) I honestly simply don't care very much about other people's opinions.

However, AM I now old enough to begin dressing seriously like a crazy old lady who wanders in the park talking to the pigeons?

I think I want to be.