... or to any such Red Carpet event, supposing I was invited?
What to wear is often a question we face, especially as we stand in our bedrooms surveying our options.
Do I need to 'look the part' for a certain role, whether it be familial, professional or social?
When I am speaking before a crowd, I try to wear what will help connect me with the audience, or what will best aid in communication.
When I've traveled, I've thought about what was appropriate or advantageous. People often say that those who dress smartly are more likely to get an upgrade. But it is often the wealthy dress most casually, as if they have nothing to prove to anyone. Oh, it can all get so confusing!
I'm rarely concerned with impressing people I don't know. I'll probably never ee thema gain so why dress with them in mind?
I usually think about comfort, confidence, and trying not to embarrass my companions.
I've been told I have a Bohemian style. I think that means I've given up trying to be trendy or fashionable and just wear weird stuff that makes others wonder if it might be the next 'in' thing. Those who know me know I wouldn't know the next 'in' thing if it hit me on the head.
When in Zimbabwe, I tried to dress respectfully and comfortably. When in India, my local clothing choices were comfy, easily tended to by my hosts and caused many smiles and warm welcomes. I was less foreign than I would have been in Western style clothes. In America I find I'm often the only one in black. In New Zealand I'm often the one wearing the most colour. Sometimes I've just packed so lightly that I'm wearing the only clean thing left!
At times I've dressed the part of chaplain or lecturer, as auntie or photographer, as hiker or painter... each appropriate to the context. Knowing who I am and why I'm there gives me confidence to be me.
So, if I was to require a Red Carpet wardrobe, the first thing would be NOT to make the WORST DRESSED list, and then to feel comfortable in my surroundings. Let's see, who designs well for short women who don't wear heels . . . . .