saturday, february 1st 2025

Today I wore a yellow gingham dress.

If you know me or have met me, you probably know that I have only worn black clothes (pole attire excluded) for the past 6 years. So a puffy yellow dress definitely feels like a big deal, or at least feels like a new chapter has started.

This came to be a few days ago, when I landed in Budapest with my mother. A quick, adventurous little getaway, just for us. My mother has an acquaintance who lives and works here (and who’s kind enough to host us). An extremely fascinating and eccentric Armenian lady who you’ll take one look at and think: “This is it. This is how life can and should be lived.”

I was instantly enamoured by her and her life, interests and very hyper energy. It’s something you just don’t see coming and it surprises you in the nicest way. The past few days she (very efficiently) showed us the most beautiful corners and curves of Budapest and shared her fascination for the architecture here, her love for jazz and art and she most definitely hasn’t been stingy with the plethora of Armenian anecdotes up her sleeve.

Now yesterday night, after the three of us shared two bottles of wine in a sky-bar in the heart of Budapest we arrive back to her place a little bit tipsy. With tipsy I mean: She and my mother accidentally broke a wine glass fighting and arguing about who’s paying the bill whilst I quickly apologised to the waiter and tapped with my phone, so definitely drunk right?

Anyways, we get home, and she says to me: “Aurora, I think we actually have very similar taste in clothing, I have a dress that I think you’d really like and I want you to try it on.” I’m very down to play dress up anytime so I tell her to bring the dress. She comes back with a cutesy, puffy gingham dress. Very fun to style and layer, but I told her “It’s so beautiful, such a pity it’s yellow though.” She just looks at me, with the dress in her arms and her face just says enough, so I add “I would still love to try it on though.” So I do.

What can I say, it was hard to get used to it but I genuinely felt nice. We show it to my mom, who especially didn’t see it coming but was also excited to finally see some change. I tell them “It’s really nice but I’m afraid I won’t wear it, you know, because.”

Now a quick side note, there’s no (as far as I’m aware) psychological, or deeper reason to me wearing exclusively black. I think it’s practical, all of your clothing items match, shopping is less overwhelming, and I just like the way it looks. But the longer you commit to this “choice” the more responsible you feel towards keeping it for some reason, even when it’s something as elementary as this.

She says “Okay, I understand, I have another dress similar to this but in black, try it.” So I do. And she tells me, I want to give you one of them, so please pick one and take it with you.” Now a year ago this would’ve been an easy choice, I think even a week ago it would’ve been. I would keep things easy, simple and predictable and pick the black one. Why complicate things and pick yellow?

So I think, and look in the mirror. I think again and look at my mother. I think a bit harder and then look at this woman I just met two days ago, and I realise the choice I’m about to make, and I realise that this is not about a yellow dress.

Thank you Hasmik.