Breaking the Rules

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The more I style blog, the more I find that there are no rules to personal style. Since I post outfits many times a week, I find myself asking my husband "does this work? do you think this is cute? is this weird?" Is this weird -- that's the one I find myself asking a lot. And my husband always responds with "Who cares?"
I hate this answer. We usually fight after he throws this one out there. "I care!" I scream as I run into our bedroom and slam the door. Then I turn on some Alanis Morissette, pull out my composition notebook and journal about how stupid my parents are and how no one has asked me to the prom yet (Sad but true story. I had no date to the junior prom.). That's right, teen angst still reigns supreme in our household. I am a child. 
But seriously. Who cares? And when I come out of my teenage spirit induced coma, I realize he is right. I don't tell him this of course, but I know he is. I get dressed because I like to wear clothes. I remix my clothes to prove to myself that debt is always trendy and never in fashion. I blog because I care not about my formulated rules of style, but about expressing my creative mind with what I wear. So to that I say break the rules of fashion. Be a rebel, an outlaw of the outward appearance. If you want to wear it, wear it. Who cares? 
(If you are wondering what the hell I'm talking about, I felt weird with my top being untucked. I know, I know, it's no big deal. I told you I was a child. )
Side note: I am not alone in this thinking, as Elaine also wrote about breaking the rules this last week.

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Breaking the Rules

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