How would you dress if you couldn’t see yourself in the mirror?
by Beth
Easterseals Thrive hosted Twitter chat about disability and fashion on Wednesday, and it was a lively discussion. Thanks to all who participated! Speaking of fashion –here’s my take on it as a person who is blind.
I feel good in this outfit. My Seeing Eye dog Whitney likes the fur coat she is wearing, too.
I was 26 years old when I lost my sight. A Vietnam Veteran who was blinded in a military training accident was assigned to teach me how to cook.
A friend who visited me at Braille Jail (that’s what I called the facility I was sent to in order to learn new blind skills) told me what this teacher looked like. “That guy? He has long sideburns and long hair. Bell bottoms!” my friend said. “He looks like a rock and roller from the 70s!”
The year was 1985. I was horrified.
I started fidgeting with the buttons on my denim jumper, wiggling my toes against the flat cotton shoes on my feet. These clothes I’d bought when I could see would wear out sometime. What would I replace them with? Would I forever DRESS as if it were 1985?
We didn’t have much money back then, but my husband Mike saw to it from the start that I shop at the most expensive and exclusive clothing store in town. My first time there, I paraded out of the dressing room in a tight pair of leggings. The store owner gasped. “Oh, honey – you’ve got some big hips!” Now here was a woman I could trust.
I’ve never put on leggings again, but most of the clothing I wear comes from smaller boutique-type stores. I get to know the store owners and staff and trust them to be honest about what looks good on me –and what doesn’t.
Shopping online is cheaper, I know. A computer screen doesn’t allow a person to feel a piece of clothing, though, and I choose what I wear by how the fabric feels — and I feel — when I wear it.
People with disabilities get stared at. I can’t see the stares, but I sure can feel them. And as long as they’re watching, I want to look good.
Apparently, I do. That’s what people tell me, at least. And Without being able to look in a mirror and judge for myself, I have the luxury of believing them.