When I was a kid, I didn’t give two cents about what I was going to wear on Christmas. Old pictures pasted into my childhood photo albums reveal me in sandos and shorts, denim overalls, sometimes a gauzy little dress, and always two beribboned pigtails. The whole point of Christmas was to see all my older, cooler cousins; rack up presents from my parents, grandparents, and various aunts and uncles; gorge myself on the Filipino-style buffet; and drink rich, chocolaty, homemade cacao at my lolo’s house. The way I was dressed had really nothing to do with the matter.
Now, I’m a 20-something career girl, and dressing up has everything to do with it. I can’t RSVP to a Christmas party without someone asking me via text, Facebook, or BBM, “So, what are you wearing?”
I do the same thing too, of course. As is the age-old practice with many women, I’ll rummage through my bursting closet and come to the conclusion that I am utterly bereft. “What are you wearing?” I’ll parrot back. “I have nothing!”
Which, as we all know, is hardly true. I’ll eventually piece something together, slap on my lipstick and my highest heels, and scurry out the door to the party I am already late for—without having to shop for anything new. (Shopping: who has the time? And given all those gift purchases, the money?)
We may take a circuitous route to find it, but in the caverns of every woman’s wardrobe hangs a yet-to-be-discovered Christmas outfit. You just have to try it on to believe it. And that’s a fact.
Another fact? If we were still kids, this whole process would seem completely ridiculous.
So why does our perspective on dressing change once we get older? Simple: our bodies are all grown up—and so is the way we think about them. When you were a kid, you wouldn’t care if a piece of clothing didn’t fit you quite right—if you liked it, you wore it. The concept of “flattering” never held a candle to your idea of fun. You were blissfully unaware (or indifferent) to the fact that your tummy was poking out like a baby kangaroo after one too many servings of pastel and lechon. If you spilled something on yourself, your mom would dab a wet napkin over it and implore you to be more careful. After all, what kid would be concerned about a food stain or a belly bulge when there were gifts to be ecstatically ripped open?
As the years creep up on us, our bodies fill out and our vanity kicks in, and we start looking, really looking, at ourselves in the mirror. Then, we start asking the mother of all fashion questions: “Does this make me look fat?” That is the exact moment when our childish oblivion ends. But soon after, if we’re lucky, we unlock the secrets of smart style—and the real fun begins.
Fashion is frivolous in many ways, but the art of dressing is not so much a frivolity as it is a valuable tool. It can change the way your body looks, obscuring the parts you dislike and highlighting the parts you’re proud of—even when you’re stuffing yourself silly during noche buena. When you look good, you feel good, and when you feel good, you gain confidence—and confidence always makes you the life of the party.
Test-drive my quick guide to noche buena dressing! It will get you through all the eating, drinking, and going back for seconds in style—and just as important, in comfort.
Merry Christmas—and happy munching!
(Flashbox photo from Eat, Pray, Love courtesy of Columbia Pictures)
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