I’ve just returned home after three whirlwind weeks of travel, and while I was away, I engaged in my favorite form of historical-research-slash-souvenir-shopping: thrifting. From Bucharest to Siena, Italy, I discovered some true gems, from faux fur pink-and-blue kitten heels at Twice Vintage Shop in Rome to a vintage polka-dot ceramic tea service in Brasov. But my most inspirational find was unearthed in New York: a pair of sparkly black Bob Mackie cigarette pants that I scored for $60 at Cure Thrift Shop in the East Village.

I’ve always believed that the very best purchases represent the potential for reinvention, and as summer approaches, I find myself less interested than ever in looking subtle or “occasion-appropriate.” What I want instead? To be glitzy, glamorous, a little messy, and utterly impossible to miss. In other words, I kind of…want to be Cher?

I’m finding a lot of inspiration in a quote Cher shared with the New York Times in 2013 about her controversial Bob Mackie look at the 1986 Oscars: “I just thought, ‘I’m going to look like I am. I’m going to be who I am. I don’t care if they like how I dress.’ And if you could have seen it up close. It was cashmere, the beading was beautiful, they made earrings, and the headdress was exquisite. It was impeccable. It was beautifully done. Camp is in the eye of the beholder.”

I certainly don’t know what it’s like to keep your inimitable sense of style intact as an octogenarian, but I do know what it’s like to have your taste questioned on the basis of your identity. Fat people like myself are often cautioned to stick to basics and neutrals for fear of drawing unwanted attention, but at this point in my life, I’m not afraid to admit that I want the attention. I got used to wearing bright colors a few years into my weight gain, but now I want all of the sequins, the rhinestones, the vintage lamé—and the Cher-like confidence to wear them into any room I choose instead of shrinking into the background.

It’s not only Cher’s sense of style that inspires me, of course. I’m also on the record as being pretty thrilled about her age-gap relationship with music executive Alexander “AE” Edwards—partly because Cher seems happy in it (we love that for her!) and partly because, as a single 30-something, I’m very into the idea of refusing to compromise on your individuality (or desire), especially if it means a man decades your junior becomes obsessed with you.

All of which is to say: Happy birthday, Cher. May this coming summer bring gold halter tops, bedazzled linen jackets, sparkly cigarette pants, and Bob Mackie vibes for us all!