While I was growing up, New Year's Eve was one of those holidays my family simply did not acknowledge. My mom would always insist on all of us, "laying low," for the evening, and would inevitably end up retiring to her bedroom way before the ball had even dropped. I would always stay up and watch the celebrations on TV, admiring all the fabulous clothing and chaos. Often, I would wonder why my family always skipped out on the excuse to join this ultimate night to party.
Now that I'm in my thirties, I have begun to understand my mom's hesitation toward embracing the upcoming year. I find with age, I have become more reflective towards life, and with this inevitably more nostalgic. Now being the, "semi-established," adult I like to think of myself as, I no longer constantly dream of a limitless future. Instead, I often find myself longing for the comforting past. I sometimes simply miss being an irresponsible kid.
Which brings me to my main issue with New Year's Eve. With the passing of each year it becomes increasingly impossible to ignore the fact that I am nowhere near being a child anymore. When an individual is in their twenties the public still chalks up erratic or reckless behavior to, "they're still a kid." However, I've never heard those words uttered when referring to a 35 year old. When one enters their mid thirties it is no longer socially acceptable to not have the majority of, (and excuse me for being crass), "your shit together." One is supposed to have their, "life plan," figured out at this point. This is why I start getting sleepy at 10:30 PM on New Year's Eve. While I am fairly comfortable with not having a conventional, "life plan," at the age of 35, I find others are not able to accept this about me. Add the extreme attention this holiday gives to the passing of time and I become paranoid about my lack of a, "life plan." All of the sudden, a New Year's Eve celebration seems like a time bomb ticking off my lack of concrete plans, goals, and achievements of the last year. When did the ball drop start signifying a sinking situation rather than future opportunities?
Introduce blog post, "The Habits of Haute (A Year of Style 2014)." It just so happens that this New Year's Eve actually coincides almost perfectly with the one year anniversary of this style blog. This anniversary is something I am proud of. I have decided that instead of beating myself up this holiday, I am going to focus on what I did achieve this year. As one can see in the photographs above, I recorded 2014 through pictures and text. Throughout this process I was able to share much of my personal style, stories, and even some feelings! Someday I can look back at this blog and admire, laugh, or most likely be horribly embarrassed at the person I revealed myself to be. The important thing to me is that I remember who I was, what I looked like, and even what I was wearing. Maybe, through analyzing these pictures and posts I will realize I always did have a real adult, "life plan." I suspect that plan revolved around pursuing the things I enjoy. So this New Year's Eve I will happily remember 2014 as a year spent blasting Black Sabbath tunes, making new friends, battling rodents in my vehicle, hundreds of vanilla lattes, and of course, boat loads of clothes. Because one always wants to look their best when approaching a promising future.