A month without a mirror. How a Vogue editor experimented on herself

A month without a mirror forced the girl to think differently about her appearance and what she wears.

Brooklyn-based writer and editor Elisa Dumais talked about going mirrorless for a month, and it influenced her dressing philosophy. The girl wrote philosophical reflections especially for Vogue.

Elisa said she found herself in France this October while her colleagues were in Paris for Fashion Week, landing on a small scenic vineyard two hours east of the Alsace region. The girl stayed there for about a month.

Eliza and the volunteers pressed, separated and chewed the berries in exchange for shelter, food and, of course, a great experience.

The girl stated that this was a type of agricultural summer camp for adults interested in wine.

“There was no mirror in the room assigned to me in my adult dormitory, which I shared with a sommelier, and we had no shared toilet. For the first time in my adult life, I spent almost a month dressing without trusting my own reflection,” Dumais began his story.

The girl admitted that, given the nature of the work, her costumes were pragmatically monotonous: work boots with stones, socks, spandex tights or shorts, a sweatshirt.

“But the simplicity of the template did not make me want to choose the right combinations,” the author said.

Despite the monotony of the first week, the girl tried to choose an appearance among the T-shirts she wore in the morning. She admitted that she is used to trying everything on and choosing everything to the smallest detail before leaving the house. Of course, without a mirror, the girl let her hair down and simply tied it into a bun. She then began to choose socks that matched the look peeking out from the edge of her shoes. This was the only accessory in her daily look.

“We would put on and take off sweaters during the workday when the sun was up or it was raining. By noon everything was covered in dirt and grape juice, as if on purpose. And of course there were no subway windows among the vines or store windows where I wished I could see my reflection… I fussed, smoothed out the wrinkles, got the right silhouette.” “I wondered if I had tied a sweater around my waist to protect it. I looked down at my dirt-stained knees, a bucket of burning Pinot Gris resting between them, and I imagined the girls I knew, staring at the bags, the miniskirts, the square-toed leather boots, the tortured fashion week,” Elisa Dumais said of the first day.

However, towards the end of the week, the girl began to show a more relaxed attitude towards her style and image.

“Once again, I believed in my clothes: the ribbed tanks, the vintage T-shirts, the socks I chose. Each one truly fulfilled its most important role: changing my look,” the author said.

Already in the second week the girl lost the desire to change or correct anything in her appearance. She stopped thinking about things that were normal before: whether her hair was up, whether she wore sunscreen, and so on.

Elisa Dumais began to get used to daily tasks that had previously seemed difficult. The desire to communicate with other people, to learn something new about them began to arise, and each new day turned into something more romantic and poetic than a working day.

“So it’s no surprise when I tell you that I’ve never felt more beautiful, or perhaps beauty as a noun has taken on a completely different texture. It felt like growing up and rejuvenating,” the author added.

At the end of les vendages (French for wine harvest), when the grapes were pressed and fully harvested, he said goodbye to the other volunteers and headed to a hotel in Paris.

“With two days before I was due to fly home, life in the capital seemed both distinctly normal and completely impossible. “I swam for more than six minutes for the first time in weeks and felt cleaner than ever before in my life.

Then I started dressing as is customary, feeling dizzy with excitement at the impractical shoes. I was wearing black pants that I hadn’t touched in a long time and they were at the bottom of my suitcase; A cropped sweater, layered beads, stilettos, ribbed socks. “I replaced my sweater with a sleeveless knitted T-shirt, then a men’s jacket, then a sweater again, because with the help of the mirror I was able to evaluate the options and calculate the best scenario,” the author said.

He was very disappointed with the results and quickly reverted to the previous version of himself, this particular presentation. But when you returned home, everything fell into place.

“Now, a few weeks later, I regret to inform you that I have not moved to France and broken the mirrors in my apartment. I would be lying if I said that I have changed cosmically. I am still enjoying the fourth, fifth day at home, even the sixth iteration of my clothing choices, thinking about my work, moving about in the outside world , flickering on the glass surface of a store window… But with my messy inner body highlighted somewhere, the belief that I lived most fully within myself disappeared. Or perhaps the author suggests that “my image in the mirror must confirm some fundamental truth about my character – balance, effort, even beauty “Things like this can be reliably tested on the iron frame of a subway window,” he said.

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Source: Focus


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