Beyond the Costume: What Mardi Gras Taught Me About Style and Identity

Bugnes de Lorraine.

Today, as we celebrate Mardi Gras (Shrove Tuesday), my mind drifts back to the kitchen of my childhood. I can still smell the beignets - crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside, abundantly sprinkled with icing sugar by my mother and grandmother.

Those days were filled with laughter, belonging, and a very specific kind of freedom.

In the liturgical calendar, Mardi Gras is the final feast before the quiet of Lent—a season of renewal for body and soul. But as a child, it was simply the day I could finally "be" the women I dreamed of becoming.

The Power of the "Costume"

I didn't just dress up; I stepped into the shoes of my heroes. Looking back, I realize I wasn't just playing; I was exploring the architecture of different characters:

The Ballet Teacher: In her pink silk and tulle, she represented a fierce combination of rigor, femininity, and grace.

The Judoka: Her immaculate, heavy white kimono and black belt weren't just a uniform; they were symbols of balance, smart movement, and quiet strength.

The Private Detective: A beige trench coat and felt hat were the tools of her inquisitive thinking and calm discretion.

The Governess: Earthy folk dresses, like those worn by Maria in The Sound of Music, spoke of simplicity, efficiency, and a nurturing heart.

At seven years old, I believed I could "be" them simply by dressing like them.

From Childhood Dreams to Adult Identity

Now, nearly 40 years later, I realize that childhood intuition wasn't entirely wrong. While we eventually put away the tutus and the kimonos, we never stop using clothing to signal who we are.

The way we decide to present ourselves to the world says a lot about our identity.

Our daily "costume" - the blazer we choose for a board meeting, the soft cashmere we wear for a difficult conversation, the colours we pick to brighten a grey London morning - tells a story.

It tells the world:

This is who I am.

This is how I feel.

This is what I am capable of.

This is what I intend to bring to others.

As we enter this season of reflection and renewal, I invite you to look at your wardrobe with fresh eyes.

We are no longer children playing at being heroes, but we are still women on a mission to serve, to lead, and to love.

Does your daily attire honour your natural design? Or are you wearing a mask that no longer fits?

Style is not vanity ; it is the outward expression of an inward reality.

Let us use it to reveal the most authentic version of ourselves.

Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music, 1965, by Robert Wise