I watch a lot of What Not To Wear, and try and shop in accordance with the tips they give their various makeover people. Before entering this phase of fashion awareness, I didn't really think of fashion in the same ready-to-wear-bone's-connected-to-the-couture-bone way I do now. I paid attention to the fashion shows and what was going on trendwise, but then I would take my teenage self to the Greendale Mall (WOOTOWN SHOUTOUT) and head straight for Rave, Deb, Rainbow, and whatever other deranged, cheap-fabric-tastic, miniature prostitute supply stores they had in there, and declare a great victory when I found a camo teeshirt with inexplicable sequins on it for four dollars. How I made it out of my high school fashion alive, I still do not know. Just from DESCRIBING that shit I know it was flammable.
Did I mention that this was all interspersed with hockey jerseys, colored jeans, and a weird predilection for tucking in shirts? Because it totally was.
The funny thing is that at heart, I have a pretty classic style. I like basic pieces with fun details (from whence the shoe/handbag/jewelry obsession stems), and easily avoid the raccoonlike attraction many women have to the Trend of the Moment. Of all people, I thank my DAD for the latter half of that equation, because when I was in my early teen years, he gave me these odd, three hole punched like...girl cards? I can only assume they were a project that Worcester Magazine (where he worked at the time) or one of his buddies was working on developing, but their topics ranged from makeup to clothing to Girl Stuff (in that sanitized way that we teach female health in America - SEX ED THAT DOESN'T EXPLAIN HOW IT WORKS = MORE BABIES, YOU IDIOTS!) to boy snaring tips to...I think recipes for some reason? I don't know, but in any case one of the fashion ones dealt specifically with building a wardrobe of basics and only choosing trends that WORKED for you, and went on to say that trends that work for you then basically turn in to staples for you. So anyway, thanks Dad.
That all being said, I make occasional lunges in the direction of madness, and also form emotional attachments to certain ill advised articles of clothing, and thus I have some weird shit in my closet. I'm not saying I SHOULDN'T have immediately burned the teeshirt with a glitter penguin and the word "CHILLIN" on it after Creepy Ryan from My Hall poked my penguin and said "I like penguins" with his phasers set to Creeptastic, I'm saying the fact remains that I REALLY like penguins and I really loved how the shirt fit. Let's just take a moment out for the Closet of Shame.
- Blue leopard print pants
- ZEBRA print pants (there are no words to describe how bad a plan those were)
- A bright yellow miniskirt made of sweatshirt? That says "Corona" on it?
- A jacket I bought in my Victoria's Secret phase that comes down fully to my knees, on purpose.
- At a guess, eleventy billion sarongs. Why?
- Pants in a greenish brownish plaid that has NEVER been worn by anyone who is not a golf playing senior citizen
- Six inch platform heels made of what seems to be recycled tires and gold lame
- Grey stretch super-bell pants
- Far too many stretch velvet tops for good mental health
- Assorted shrunken sweaters from my pre-knowing-how-to-use-the-washing-machine-without-incident-period
- Nine billion hideous, poorly made, synthetic fabric pairs of underwear
So, I'm cleaning out my closet. It's actually pretty cathartic and makes room for new shoes. I'm just saying, it's not without its own measure of shame.
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I've been cleaning out my closet, too, but by bit. It's pathetic. I know what my style is, and yet... like your animal print pants, there are a few scary thing in there that make me think I accidentally dropped acid once or twice before shopping. (No, I actually didn't.)
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