once a bag lady...

Lately, comments made about my work have been sticking a little too closely. Maybe it's because I'm turning 40 next week, but truth be told, I'm a self-diagnosed Highly Sensitive Person (HSP, check it out. It's for real, y'all). I remember back in high school, like many girls my age, loving Molly Ringwald's character in Pretty in Pink. I vividly recall wanting to recreate her gypsy-like bedroom and loving the quirky clothes she pieced together. I also vividly recall being told one day in high school that I looked like a bag lady with my layered up skirts and probably one too many socks (it WAS the 80s after all) because it fit my mood that morning. Let's just say it didn't go over well with the popular set who adhered to an unspoken dress code of upturned Polo collars in every rainbow color.
So, all this to ask: At what point in one's life do you become comfortable in your own skin and confident with your work that you're able to shake off criticism? I know I take things way too personally. And I know I'm not alone. I remind myself that I'm very lucky to be in a profession so closely aligned with what I enjoy. Perhaps that makes us care *too* much. Become a little *too* passionate.
And, in the end, I know there are way worse things than for your work to be called, on the eve of your 4th decade, "young, quirky, and mod."
After all, Coco Chanel once said, "In order to be irreplaceable, one must always be different."

PS The image, above, is of sylist Sibella Court's work. Definitely on the quirky side, which to me is pretty wonderful.