Rambling Thoughts About Identity

I had a realization today. It wasn’t one of those huge realizations one has that seem at first glance to totally shift one’s perspective. Rather it was more of a crystallization of a set of minor realizations that may build to something bigger and more dynamic later.

Sometimes I think people hate us most when they think we’re taking their “spot in life” from them or that we potentially could. What in the world do I mean by “spot in life”? In a basic way I mean their identity. For example I think my ex-step-mother-in-law thought I was taking the “cute-young-blonde” position in the family from her. She was a natural light golden blonde and based on conversations we had I think she felt that her hair color and being thought of as “cute” were very much…meaningful markers of her personhood. She really leaned-in on those traits in her personal stories (and dreaded aging).

In the perfume community my loudest haters always thought we were so much alike. And I used to think that was purely…misguided angst and toxic competition but today I’m starting to suspect that on occasion they also truly believed that. Like…one of them vocalized that she thought we were both “girl-next-door-types” and on a gut-level I think part of her really meant that.

I’m not a cute blonde type. I’m not a girl-next-door type. In fact, I actually have very little in common in almost any way with any of the haters on Instagram and I’m quite different than my ex’s step-mom. But I was a very slim, slightly petite, naturally dark blond (with blonder bleached hair ) young lady when I met my ex’s step-mother. And I was fervently attempting to be polite, friendly, and cheerful when I first met her. …If being the young cute blonde was super important to her sense-of-self and/or self-worth back then I can see why, given the seemingly possible similarities at first glance (or if you squint), she was so on guard and scared by me, especially if she was already on edge in life in general for whatever reason. Same for the “girl-next-door” on Instagram. I think she might have felt I was stealing some of her real glory because she genuinely I worried that I might be like her but just better.

…Again, I’m not similar to those women. Almost at all… And how sad is it that as women our sense-of-self is often as “a type” anyway?

At any rate, I’m more of a paradoxical “laid-back-intense-and-elegant” type. Of course that doesn’t probably technically exist as an actual archetype in our society but it’s me anyway. In astrology I’d be a Libra/Virgo cusp or maybe a sweet Virgo with a Libra rising? Libra moon? Cancer moon? *shrug* Whatever. The point is…I’m quiet and thoughtful and loving but honest. Sometimes so honest that I can (too easily) accidentally offend people unless I keep my mouth shut. It’s an uncanny ability to find the jugular without even trying. But I often do keep my mouth shut. Very intentionally.

Once more…I’m not some cute, bubbly, gregarious “hot blond” nor am I a fun-loving, down-to-earth, “wholesome gal” to take to dinner and a movie. It should go without saying that both of those kinds of people could potentially be charming but they’re not me… They are not who I am. *sigh* I was once naturally blond. I love dinner. I love film. *laugh* …I love fun. But anyway…

Honestly, Lys Mediterranee (it often goes back to perfume on this blog, sorry) was picked out for me by someone who I think has insight. And it’s perfect. I cannot believe how perfect it is… If vintage Chanel No. 22 was the signature for the me my mother always said I was then Frederic Malle’s 2000’s floral is closer to the signature for the me only a soulmate of some sort, or an other half would be able to describe so well.

Maybe someone else is more No. 22 than I ever was or am as a person… But, regardless, there are variations within each type. We’re all unique… I’m sure I’ve said something similar before but I’ll say it…again.