A Fashionista's Guide to Cancer

For a fashionista, looking effortlessly chic is a full time job. Consistently wearing stylish outfits, complete with coordinated accessories and fabulous shoes, requires constant maintenance and systematic planning. At the start of each new season, the fashionista will carefully study the pages of Vogue and a handful of other magazines for good measure, taking mental notes on the hottest colours and trends. Once she is thoroughly educated on the season's must-haves, she sets out on her hunt for clothes and paintstakingly starts to build her new wardrobe, ensuring she has matching necklaces, earrings, tights, bags and makeup. The fashionista is always looking for some item or another to complete her ensemble, and is forever having hair and nails pruned at the salon. The fashionista may very well be gainfully employed in an actual full-time job (which helps support her shoppoholic tendencies), but she always manages to sneak in some time to ensure that she maintains her discriminating style standards.

For a fashionista who has found herself with cancer, looking good requires a whole new foundation, so to speak. For starters, getting chemo will often result in hair loss, and sometimes eyebrows and eyelashes go too. The drug cocktails (none of which come with an olive, although some are the colour of sangria) - leave recipients with a queasy feeling that basically makes them want to spew vomit in every possible direction, so their complexion tends to have a sickly greenish hue. Those who have had surgery are probably showcasing an unbecoming scar, and some people are left with only one boob, or no boobs, which is generally not considered to be all that flattering. For cancer vixens (a term coined by Marisa Acocella Marchetto), cutting edge takes on a very different meaning.

If you are a fashionista and end up with a tumour, or three or four, as your latest accessory, the most powerful tool in the fight to stay stylish is your own creativity. You will quickly learn that covering up bandages, scars, hair loss and blotchy skin is an art form that takes cunning, skill and an arsenal of accessories.

To those who think that staying stylish and attractive is, or should be, the last thing on someone's mind who is faced with a life threatening disease, I respectfully submit that this is simply not the case, nor should it be. First, the way people feel about themselves, for better for worse, is intricately connected with what they see when they look in the mirror. It is hard to feel energetic and ready to conquer the world when you look in the mirror and see drab hair, pale skin and blah clothes. And there is nothing like wearing a new, fabulous outfit to put that little hop in your step, that smile on your face and that polished confidence in your demeanor.

Second, hospitals are the most drab places on earth (except the Sloan Kettering international centre, which I admit was pure luxury, with a price tag to match) and can make you feel like a "sick" person. Walking in to the oncology ward with a stylish ensemble can actually liven up the atmosphere and keep you feeling like a healthy person. Looking and feeling good can be contagious and puts others in a good mood too - a fabulous accessory is actually a great conversation starter, and doctors, nurses and patients alike tend to brighten when they talk about something as fun as fashion. Plus, wearing something stylish adds an aesthetic element to the grey walls and the grey clothes that everyone in the hospital seems compelled to wear. And a shot of colour can truly liven the atmosphere while waiting for that shot of chemo.

Third, and perhaps more importantly, it is completely natural to want to look your best. This is particularly the case for the fashionista, who takes such pleasure in style and aesthetics, and for whom fashion is such an enjoyable part of life. If her appearance becomes lacklustre, this is a clear sign that something just isn't right, that her joie de vivre has been put on hold.

Throughout my battle with cancer, medical procedures and the effects of treatment have thrown some serious curve balls in my effort to stay chic:

Fashion Challenge #1: The Neck Bandage

The first curve ball was the truly massive bandage plastered on my neck from my biopsy. The bandage took up much of the square area of my neck and shoulders. (To make matters worse, and far more disgusting, a yellow, thankfully odourless substance kept oozing out and soaking up the bandage. Can you say gross?) As luck would have it, my mother happened to be in her fashion heyday during the decade of excess that was the 1980's, and had kept a box full of gorgeous Oscar de la Renta and Hermes scraves that I now had at my disposal. The scarves transported me from a gauze-wrapped Egyptian mummy into a sophisticated Audrey Hepburn type.

Fashion Challenge #2: The PICC Line

The next curve ball, however, would pose an even greater challenge. By that time, thankfully, the bandages on my neck had come off, the bruises underneath had disappeared, and a simple necklace could easily distract from the fading scar. Apparently, chemotherapy drugs can fry your veins. My oncologist wanted to protect my veins by having the drugs administered through a PICC line, which is a thin, plastic tube inserted into your vein that essentially shields it from the chemo. In my case, the entry point for the PICC line was the inside of my arm just above my elbow, and the tube was threaded internally all the way up to my heart. (And yes, I was fully awake when they inserted it.)

The problem with a PICC line from a fashion perspective is that the plastic tube and a three inch cylindrical attachment are left dangling from your arm. The doctors bandaged up the PICC line and held it together with some netting, so that I basically looked like there was a large, gross object sticking out of the inside of my arm. I was horrified. This contraption would be attached to my arm for the next four months, and for the entire duration of the summer. So much for the gorgeous little strappy dresses I had bought.
PICC chic: This is a picture of me in one of my puffy sleeved shirts - no PICC in sight!
After shedding quite a few tears, I regrouped. I went shopping and bought every top that I could find with puffy sleeves, which, as luck would have it, was one of the summer's major trends. My family dubbed the look PICC chic. For scorching hot days and less formal affairs, I bought a bandage and made it look like I had a sports injury.

Fashion Challenge #3: The Hair Loss

By the time I had accumulated a wardrobe full of puffy sleeves, my hair started to fall out, and the act of straightening my naturally curly hair became a very dangerous game. Once I began to lose my hair, people suggested that I cut it short in order to make my hair appear thicker and to ease the pain of seeing my long locks fall out of my head. Yet I was determined to maintain its length for as long as possible. I found that as my hair thinned, the fact that I had long hair helped cover up the spots that were beginning to bald. Also, while my hair became too thin to wear down, the length of my hair permitted me to tie it back in a bun, which actually created the appearance of more hair.

Eventually, the hair loss became quite visible on the crown of my head, but I sought to avoid wearing a wig for as long as possible, particularly in the sweltering heat of summer. So I put on my thinking cap (which, unfortunately, did not in itself cover up the hair loss) and realized that thick hair bands, scarves wrapped around the head, and even turbans were all the rage for Summer '07. I promptly went out and bought a dozen shades of stylish, thick hair bands. My hair actually took several months to thin, and I made it through the entire summer without a wig. My hairbands and scarves, coupled with tight buns, allowed me to completely cover up any sign of thinning hair. (Admittedly I did not venture into turbanism - no matter how you slice it, unless you are Mary-Kate Olsen, turbans say Cancer.)

While I never ended up being completely bald, I did reach a point where hair bands were no longer doing the trick. So I ventured into Wigdom. I actually spent an obscene amount of money on a natural hair wig, which ended up looking completely unnatural, plus the hair on the wig was so thin that you could see the bands that held it together. (I bought the wig from Orly's Creations in Montreal. I advise that you stay far, far away from there.) Ultimately, I found a fabulous synthetic wig that even had its own highlights. The irony in all this is that the wig actually looks hotter than my own hair, and women frequently ask me where I get my highlights. For variety, I wear a pageboy cap which can actually look pretty cute over long blond locks.

Although I did not ultimately need them, I also bought false eyelashes, which are available at many pharmacies, and I ordered some amazing natural hair eyebrows from Headcovers Unlimited.

Fashion Challenge #4: The Radiation Marks

Just as I was starting to get comfortable with wearing wig, it was time to face my next fashion challenge: huge red and blue crosses painted onto my neck and chest, which were required for the entire duration of my radiation treatments (today, incidentally, was Day 17.) I looked to Fall '07 fashion for guidance and began accessorizing with scarves and silk and wool turtlenecks.

Over the past few months, I have built up an arsenal of accessories and an armoury, or shall I say, armoirey, of strategies in my unwavering determination to maintain my appearance and sense of style. For every fashionista out there who finds herself in the same predicament, and I hope that this number is very, very small, it is important to realize that you can stay stylish and feel good about yourself throughout your treatment. The key is to work with the latest styles and use them to cover up any unsightly scars, bandages, swollen arms, or anything else that is better kept under wraps. Plus, there are workshops at Canadian hospitals as part of the Look Good, Feel Better program, which help women look their best during treatment. As a bonus, they give out tons of fabulous free makeup.

Admittedly, there will be times when covering up just isn't possible. You may have to sit in a waiting room for a test sans wig and wearing a horrendous blue gown. Or you may be undergoing a major procedure that requires hospitalization, such as a stem cell transplant, that leaves you completely wiped. Or you may, from time to time, have a very bad day and just not feel like dressing up. These days, hopefully, will be few and far between. As for the rest of the time, just use your carefully cultivated fashion savvy and you will be able to stay as stylish and polished as always.