Dear Readers,

I’ve been forced to eat a bit of humble pie lately. Me, the image consultant suddenly forced to go out of my house sans makeup and cute hair because of an accident that fractured both my wrists. Needless to say, in the first couple weeks it was all about getting through the most basic personal care tasks of the day,  so very quickly I had to get over my concern about my image. When both your hands are in splints you really have much bigger things to worry about than ‘how do I look?’ which all got me thinking about my own self image in general.  So let me back track a bit.

I’ve always cared about the way I looked, that has just been part of my DNA. I was wearing eyeliner and shadow and lip gloss in a Catholic high school in the Caribbean when such things were definitely frowned upon.  I saved up my allowance to buy not candy and other such nonsense but clothes because I hated what my Mother picked out for me. I did my own sunny blonde highlights (peroxide if you please) at 16 by pure experimentation and almost burned my hair all off. I even wore extensions in my hair at 17 (two long braids) before they were even IN and so ubiquitous! (See I was always ahead of the times).  Oh yeah, I definitely cared about my image from WAY back. By the time I got to college in the US I was definitely heading for the fashioinsta route in terms of my fashion sense—I had my own personal style and rocked it—I wore slouchy shin high boots with leg warmers and skirts. Mini skirts  with a big shirt cinched at the waist. Or the uber long skirt and sweater combo. Cool slacks with equally cool long sweaters in bright colors/patterns. I did the big hoop earrings (the bigger the better) and always a chunky necklace (folks we’re talking 80′s ok?). And I never left my dorm without makeup and my hair ‘just so’.

This is not to say I was ever superficial. I studied like crazy and graduated with a 3.8 GPA that earned me a full scholarship to attend Cambridge University. I was a  ‘deep’ thinker. I took classes in religious studies, art, psychology, literature to round out my business major and was always so curious about the motivations of people and the human mind. There have always been many facets to me, and for many years fashion and image was such a large part of me. But I never realized how passionate I was about this image business until I stumbled upon it and realized it was my dream career.

Ever since then, image, fashion, appearance, clothing, hair, makeup, accessories  and the impact of one’s whole visual package on one’s self esteem, confidence and even happiness and the need to share this reality has become my life’s mission. I don’t just talk the talk, I walk it. Which brings me back to the past 3 weeks when by dumb bad luck, my hands became disabled. My life routines and patterns were turned on their head. I still cannot comb my hair, wash my face, and shimmy into my skinny jeans without assistance. I’ve had to put vanity aside on many occasions lately and leave my house looking pretty much like a ‘hot mess’ hoping no one would recognize me because I could not do better. And it has forced me to take a step back and evaluate what my own image means to me.

It means a lot of course, this is what I do, this is my passion, and knowing I look good absolutely makes me feel good and confident. BUT…at the end of the day, behind closed doors, in my private life, I am me, unmasked, unmade-up and undone and I am so OK with that. I can look myself in the mirror this way and still think, ‘you look cute girl’, and go and make breakfast or whatever. These almost 4 weeks of seeing myself ‘in the raw’ has reinforced this perspective. Yes I care about how I look and when out and about, I am working my image for impact. But on my own time in my private space, I’m pretty content to take off my ‘image diva’ hat and be just Natalie.

The Image Diva, Élan Image Management