The soul of this man is in his clothes...
So C. is in the wedding we're going to in Charlotte this weekend.
I've nothing to wear.
See, lots of people -- okay, men -- misunderstand that phrase. They point at a full closet and say "But you have a closet full of clothes!", and are befuddled by the eye-rolling and disgusted sighing that invariably ensues.
The correct translation is "I've nothing to wear that makes me feel pretty/worthy/special/thin (see also: pretty)/powerful/sexy." Clothes can evoke feelings in women -- much like perfume. You're feeling cold, you wear something cuddly. You want to feel powerful and 'together', you wear a suit. You want to feel carefree, you wear something flowy and cotton or silk. Simple.
But for me, I wear my clothes like armor. They hide, protect, and conceal. Their comfort is more often secondary to their appearance -- i.e. does it make me look more pretty and less fat? And if it at least accomplishes one of those things, does it make up for any deficits by at least being so fabulous that people will notice the pattern or style or even apparent cost before noticing my gut or my second chin?
I find it interesting that men never have these problems. Clothes are purely functional and comfortable for them, never either/or. My husband has been wearing the same horrific fleece pullover since I've known him, despite it's sacklike shape and odd spots,to the exclusion of perfectly nice and newer pullovers, because it is comfortable. And he doesn't care what his friends are wearing if they all go to the sports bar together.
Meanwhile, I must go through an entire precognative hypothetical guess as to what everyone I'm going with will be wearing, and thus measure the appropriateness and comparative attractiveness of myself in any possible outfit, if said outfit has been worn our previous two meetings, and if all partsof possible outfit are clean and have been ironed. Then and only then am i prepared to venture out of the house, and into company. And this is just with friends, mind. My wardrobe psychosis only veers even more into stupidity when strangers are involved, who will judge me based on my clothing and pronounce me unfit to live/exist.
I realize this is not only ridiculous but vain. It doesn't keep me from tossing clothes all over the place and bawling about the state of my closet.
I wonder if other women do this, or if I'm the only one?
I've nothing to wear.
See, lots of people -- okay, men -- misunderstand that phrase. They point at a full closet and say "But you have a closet full of clothes!", and are befuddled by the eye-rolling and disgusted sighing that invariably ensues.
The correct translation is "I've nothing to wear that makes me feel pretty/worthy/special/thin (see also: pretty)/powerful/sexy." Clothes can evoke feelings in women -- much like perfume. You're feeling cold, you wear something cuddly. You want to feel powerful and 'together', you wear a suit. You want to feel carefree, you wear something flowy and cotton or silk. Simple.
But for me, I wear my clothes like armor. They hide, protect, and conceal. Their comfort is more often secondary to their appearance -- i.e. does it make me look more pretty and less fat? And if it at least accomplishes one of those things, does it make up for any deficits by at least being so fabulous that people will notice the pattern or style or even apparent cost before noticing my gut or my second chin?
I find it interesting that men never have these problems. Clothes are purely functional and comfortable for them, never either/or. My husband has been wearing the same horrific fleece pullover since I've known him, despite it's sacklike shape and odd spots,to the exclusion of perfectly nice and newer pullovers, because it is comfortable. And he doesn't care what his friends are wearing if they all go to the sports bar together.
Meanwhile, I must go through an entire precognative hypothetical guess as to what everyone I'm going with will be wearing, and thus measure the appropriateness and comparative attractiveness of myself in any possible outfit, if said outfit has been worn our previous two meetings, and if all partsof possible outfit are clean and have been ironed. Then and only then am i prepared to venture out of the house, and into company. And this is just with friends, mind. My wardrobe psychosis only veers even more into stupidity when strangers are involved, who will judge me based on my clothing and pronounce me unfit to live/exist.
I realize this is not only ridiculous but vain. It doesn't keep me from tossing clothes all over the place and bawling about the state of my closet.
I wonder if other women do this, or if I'm the only one?
posted by Gina at 2:47 PM
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