When one is 6 years old, wearing a tutu dress, twirling around, imagining you’re a princess. Thats cute. Ugly but adorable.
When one is 16 years old, wearing a denim mini skirt, dancing around, imagining you’re on the dance podium. Thats sexy. Attractive to some, revolting to others.
When one is 26 years old, wearing finally that dress you never wear during your teens because it never looks good on you, thinking to yourself “I will never be able to wear this, if not now”. Thats maturity. No one cares how you dress, its whats dressed inside you.
When one is 36 years old, wearing whatever that can still fit in, imagining the fat will just dissapear overnight. Thats courage.Strength you gain to wear whatever’s in the wardrobe.
When one is 46 years old, well, you literally hope fashion will be kind to you. God knows how the fashion will be then.