It's funny to me how you're style is formed over the years. You dont really have to think about it(if it's truly style) and you may not even remember what has influenced you.It was summer pool parties in the 70's where the grown ups would stay up super late as I'd peek and listen from my room: the cool clothes, the cocktailing, the rock music. I'd almost always fall asleep before the skinny dipping got underway.
I'd study my best friend's mom, a tall blond Berliner, a Claudia Schiffer-like stunner, who would wear heels to water her flowers. I'd jump at the chance to house-sit just so I could paw the Chanel, Gucci and Paco Rabanne in her closet and try on all her shoes and perfume.
Shopping trips would always end in tears and frustration, usually my mother's(we'll get to her style another time). "What's wrong with Sears?" she would scream and eventually stopped shopping with me altogether. Even then I thought of Sears as a nice place to get a giant box of hot popcorn while you waited for your dad to get new tires.There was no place for a 13 year old to buy designer clothes(that I knew of) and even if I saved all my babysitting money I couldn't afford it anyway. We comprimised for Judy's and Contempo at the Northridge Mall.
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