You can’t hide yourself

When I was in my twenties I was labelled as a “gothic” girl. I would always wear black clothes, boots and accessories.

I would hide myself behind a veil made of mystery and quite a rebellious behaviour.

Time went by and I’ve always stuck to that image of romantic nostalgia and foggy eyes. Black was my colour and grey for the happier days.

I’m in my fifties now and still, when looking at the clothes shop windows, I’m attracted to all that’s the opposite of sparkly and happy. Metal accessories and silver items complete my outfit.

You can understand the surprise when I first let my creativity flow unleashed and floral pinkish shabby chic journals took life from my crafty hands.

Laces and ribbons galore, delicate, and romantic scenes sprung out of the pages, and soon was I caught in a contradictory spiral of “who am I”?

Well, here my true self shouts out loud that I’m not who I thought I was. I see myself in a distorted mirror and I wonder if that’s really me.

After questioning this strange experience for a while, I’ve made peace with my soul and realized that we are who we are, no labels will ever be enough to name our many facets and we just need to accept what instinctively comes out of our spirit.

So now I’m the vintage, not-too-shabby chic journal maker. The gloomy side of my soul asks for aged and darkened papers, while my romantic and sweet side adds frills and laces and bows and ribbons, flowers and butterflies, a granny look and wise aphorisms.

This long preface is a warning for you guys, who will purchase my journals or simply will watch one of my flip throughs: you will find a harmonious mishmash of sweetness and wistfulness and, if you recognise yourself in a similar contradiction of feelings, we will identify ourselves as part of the same bizarre circle of human beings.