Why (Part 1)
The instant I told people about this project, I’d get one of three reactions;
1. “Oh. Huh. Good for you?” (The neutral-to-lukewarm)
2. “I think that’s an EXCELLENT idea!” (my mother, naturally)
or some variation on
3. “WHAT?!?” “Oh my god.” “Seriously?” “Why would you do that? Are you trying to torture yourself?”
So I know I’m not the only one who gets serious kicks from shopping.
Shopping is FUN. Trying on clothes is FUN. Finding something new is FUN; looking at yourself in the mirror for the first time as the person you might be if you wore this dress, or carried off this style, or showed up in a new color that makes the most of your skin. It’s like dress-up on a grander scale; am I this sophisticated/stylish/whimsical/quirky/comfortable/competent/slender/curvy/dramatic? Who would I BE in this dress?
And then there’s fashion, and trend; ankle boots, jeggings, fur vests; even if it’s not your thing, even if you’re not a big follower of Women’s Wear Daily, it’s nice to have a few current-looking pieces to bring all your other odds and ends up to date. A different hemline or silhouette can completely change your outfit, as we know, and the right trendy scarf or accessory places your Gap-classic outfit firmly in the now.
Let’s just all admit it, en masse, ensemble; It’s nice to look trendy. It’s fun to go shopping.
So why, (“god, WHY”) am I kicking it to the curb?
Because there has to be a stop to the train.
As I see it, I have spent so much time longing for things I don’t have that I’m not spending any time appreciating those I do.
At some point, there must be enough. Yes?
I covet and covet and covet. I buy something, wear it twice, sometimes six or seven or eight times in quick succession (over a month), and then it goes to sit forlornly in my closet for years to come, because by that time I’ve bought the next thing I coveted, and have moved on to wearing IT 24-7. (Exceptions to be discussed below.) I’ll buy a $10 skirt I’ll wear for an evening, and then forget about because it itched or it’s hard to style or it didn’t fit quite right as I walked all night in it; I’ll pick up a $30 dress that is just a hair too small, thinking I’m bound to lose that six pounds tomorrow, or the next day (it languishes, unloved, for the next two years).
It’s more than the money, however. (Though, that’s considerable. But that’s a different topic.) It’s the idea that I’ll always need more. That what I have isn’t, and can’t be enough.
Clothes are, at the end of the day, functional objects, designed for use. We’ve appropriated them as marks of culture, and personal expression, and occasional status symbols; but in their essence, they are designed to keep us comfortable and unexposed.
I’m subscribing to that radical idea, “You should wear everything you own.”
(Those of you who gasped and tilted your head sideways? I love you. Yay our team.)
(“. . . everything? But – well – okay, fine, true – but, I just haven’t had the CHANCE to wear that yet, there hasn’t been the OCCASION, is what I’m saying, or, well, I have worn it once, and it was totally perfect, it just hasn’t been right for anything since then, and, well, it was cheap, and I’m sure SOMEDAY I’ll wear it, probably when I’m a little skinnier or if I color my hair again?”)
(Note to self; inner monologue is not wildly logical.)
I want to love everything in my closet. I want to see all of the pieces I own in their infinite possibility; I want to feel like my closet is charmed, that I know it so well that anything I pull out I can put together in a way that makes me feel happy, and confident, and makes a statement about who I am.
And most of all, I want to feel like my closet is enough; that I have all I need. That it’s complete within what it is now.
And secondly? I’m wondering what will happen to all of that covetous energy. When I can’t spend time lusting over anthropologie.com or J. Crew or DVF without driving myself to tears, what will I do? If I won’t get Macy’s and Bloomingdales planting the idea of new boots or shawls or different jeans in my mind, what space will I clear up to create or invest? And with the funds I’ll be saving (which is, again, considerable), what will I do? Will I invest in music, more theatre, classes (in piano, in Shakespeare, in voice – all things I’ve always wanted to do), in addition to speeding my climb out of debt? What will my new interests be?
And my new comforts – rather than leaning on my bank account to buoy me up through difficult times, will I be able to find solace and transformation elsewhere? Journaling, blogging, hot tea, yoga? If I assume that I already have everything I need, how will I learn to comfort myself?
At the end of the day, I want to cherish all of my clothes as much as I do the little silver dress I bought in the eight grade, which has hung around now to make appearances at every job I’ve ever had as well as half of the gay bars in the city*; I want to discover how I might be different if I stopped assuming I needed more, and instead explored the world beyond my closet.
Have you ever kicked a frivolous addiction? How did your life transform?
(*and how much do we love those little pieces that can be completely changed with swapping of cropped trousers for thigh-high stockings?)
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