I believe style is whatever you may make it. It’s fluid. Fashion weeks of New York, Paris and Milan are my favorites to watch, pencil-thin lengthy legs, mannequins sashaying the runway. I have always been afraid of being the tacky, tall girl. For goodness sake! I am 6 feet 2 inches! High-waters with ashy ankles are a habit I was adamant about avoiding.

We are currently day 1,236 of COVID-19 (I am being dramatic) and I have been four-walls restless since having a Lisfranc tear, (doing the most, attempting to run from the shower to the kitchen). Having being bed-ridden for six plus weeks, in an addition to fighting muscle spasms in both my legs and feet I have been clawing to get out of the house.

Leg spasms, wha?

Due to nerve damage I have hit-or-miss sensation on the right side and sometimes the left-side of my body. It’s inconsistent. Some days I can feel my fingers and toes, some days I can’t feel them at all. I have now been forced to change my lifestyle, my style and life due to my temporary and permanent disability. Silently, because my disease is invisible.

Society is still in pandemic freeze, and hopefully, now, we are all finally and broadly aware of systematic racism against Blacks and African-Americans,

ANYWAYS

I decided to get gussied up out of COVID loneliness and put on a disabled look.

It is still important to me, that even though I have a debilitating disease, I still make the effort to look...” somewhat of” a decent gaze. Now, being doubly impaired with a Lisfranc tear the need to be attractive for me is important I find myself to be the most-stubborn warrior of MS. In full pain or not, if I need to, now (with a pandemic) more so want to, I can still make myself FEEL good. Even if it’s for a materialistic moment.

Secretly thrifting at a shop in our Art District I decided to slip on a look.