The beautiful people. They could be considered as phantoms in my mind; partly made up of magazine images, partly made up of girls or women I have admired over time. You remember those girls at school who used to just catch your eye? When I was little, there was a girl named Cheryl; she wore fur-lined boots and had tumbles of blonde curls. Another girl, who had dropped out of the Royal Ballet School to join our suburban school; she had perfect posture and wore penny loafers with real french centimes in them. To me aged seventeen: the epitome of style.
At University, a girl seen across a campus lawn; she wore a crisp white shirt with a big turquoise and silver pendant. When I started work in the corporate world, a girl called Sabine; she wore winter white and kitten heels. Amongst the flock of school mums; one draped in an equestrian tweed coat and Spanish brown leather boots. With a sleek ponytail and diamonds. In the street, wearers of pea coats and ballet shoes. I could go on. A myriad of little snippets; images and memories of
cool that now make up my own personal definition. Those beautiful people who had that
something; elegance, effortlessness, grace, style. Just something.
And as I grow older now I see that this style generally is something born with and not acquired. A fortuitous gift from God that will draw admirers. Much like the pictures on a blog that show loveliness in its purest forms. How lovely it must be to be one of the beautiful people! I am sure there are downsides too...but not many ;-)
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