If you’ve ever been unfortunate enough to come across me in the wild (read: away from the computer screen), you will probably have at least a passing acquaintance with my plaintive wail. Won’t you imagine, dear reader, these tones when I declare that my wardrobe is in the throes of an identity crisis?
Good thing I didn’t mention my flair for the melodramatic, isn’t it? That was a slightly – just slightly – over-the-top way of telling all and sundry that actually, what I’m going through is the age-old crisis suffered by almost everyone, almost everywhere, at some point: I have nothing to wear. This has been brought to you oh-so-graciously by London Fashion Week and my inability to be satisfied with any one area of my life at a given point of time…along with a serious penchant for the prolix. Sorry in advance.
Saying I have nothing, semantically speaking, is an exaggeration, though. I do have clothes to wear, and my wardrobe/floordrobe/chairdrobe is more than adequate testament to that. I’m just bored to tears of them, and chances are high that anybody who sees me on a semi-regular basis is too, assuming that they even verge on giving a hoot what I stumble into fifteen minutes before I tumble out of the door on any given morning.
As always, the very minor part of my brain that seeks rationality has come up with plenty of excellent excuses for this. The first is that really, I have little to no confidence in my ability to pick clothes. I found an outfit formula that works? How wonderful, let’s run with that for time immemorial. Bodycon skirt + voluminous top + Converse or boots are all well and good, but talk about vanilla. Even a jazzy scarf can’t necessarily spice that bad boy up.
I’ve already mentioned very recently that gosh, until I went to university practically, I was a strictly jeans-and-t-shirt kind of girl, with a few exceptions made for the occasional dress. That way, I was never going to win any awards, but it was nearly impossible to make an absolutely egregious sartorial mistake, and what I wore would invite little to no comment, much less negative. When you lack any sort of self-confidence, that’s key.
The next reason is that, well, I have no clue what I’m going to look like at the end of this. If my aforementioned outfit formula works, I feel I might as well stick with it until I have a more coherent idea of how my figure might change. I’ve already declared that I am not buying a single new item of clothing until I hit goal weight, but let’s see how well that lofty declaration works out the next time the “nothing purples” hit. The “nothing purples”, for the record, are a unique blend of the “blues” and the “mean reds” in which I turn into a complete cat who has to sit on her hands to stop herself from laying them on every expensive thing in sight.
Finally, there’s that question, the one of expense. When I could work all summer long and donate my life to the cause, handbags approximately equal in value to a month’s rent in central London were one heck of a lot more forthcoming than they are now. The silly thing is, though, that I feel so much better about what I own if it isn’t “fast fashion”. I’m wedded to Topshop purely out of desperation, if I’m very honest, and in an ideal world, I would have a carefully curated collection of only a few key pieces. As a university student, though, it’s sad but true that I’ve mainly been seeking seriously short-term bang for my buck. Sorry to bring the topic round to sex, but it’s a bit like having a one-night-stand with ASOS, ensuing guilt freely included.
How do I tackle this going forward, then? Well, as I’ve already mentioned, I’m not buying a single article of clothing until I’m at a comfortable place with my weight and shape. After that, though…I have no clue. Quite honestly, I’m hoping that I will be metaphorically struck with aesthetic inspiration, and suddenly, I will have a style that has at least somewhat developed from the current patterns. To back this epiphany, I’d also quite like to win the financial and self-confidence Lottery. Fingers crossed.
(all images via Style.com)