I don’t have a style

Ok so the question about style is finally over in my life: I don’t have one. I have finally got rid of the pressure it represents to find, define, create and maintain a style: I simply don’t have one, that’s it. I have plenty, that is. I wake up and feel like something, and I base my choices for the day on that. I think of myself yesterday and I can’t even recognize that woman in skyscraper heels, a you-can-only-find-this-in-Rome skirt, and make up on. I haven’t even combed my hair today.

Variety – or inconsistency - is a constant in my life, in all aspects. Music for example: I love The Rolling Stones. I ALWAYS love them. But then, I sometimes LOVE reaggeton. Yes, reaggeton. Especially on Fridays.

Another example: books. Books on my night table at the moment include La Parisienne, Mandela’s autobiography Long Walk to Freedom and Maitena’s Todo Superadas.

I mean maybe this happens to all of us.

Truth is that I feel so free now, like: honey, you don’t need to define your style, just wear whatever you please. Ahhhhhhhhhhh, freedom!!!