Alter Egos

My daily "uniform" is a tee shirt, jeans, and an apron. Hair pulled back in a ponytail, maybe a pair of earrings on if I remembered. This is how I look, about 99% of the time:

Me, giving baby Pao a bath before the kitchen remodel, March 2010.

A few days back, I went to visit my friend Idrea's boutique, "Lucky You Resale." It's a wonderful little shop, chock full of gently-used clothes, shoes, and accessories. I dropped by just to say Hi, but she asked me if I had a couple minutes, whisked me back into one of the dressing rooms, handed me clothes and jewelry to put on, and "floofed" my hair until I hardly resembled myself:

Photo: Idrea Lippman

Ha ha! I told her I look like an aging French dance-hall girl.

Photo: Idrea Lippman

She said she thought I looked more like...what was it? An artist who gives jewelry lessons and hangs out at corner cafes? Anyhow, it was a blast to dress in a style totally foreign to me, and it was great fun to see what somebody else's vision of me could be.

It got me thinking about what limits we put on ourselves. How our potential might be blocked from our sight, but a friend, a loved one, or even a stranger can see in us something we don't see and--under the right circumstances--coax it out to play for a few hours.

Photo: Chuchicarmelo

Play, creativity, and alter egos:

Photo: Warby Barker

They are gifts we sometimes forget that we have at our disposal.