Period 7 Occasional Piece
What makes my simple task of choosing an outfit to wear a rigorous, twenty-minute process in the morning? Every time you see me, I am probably in the fifth, sixth ensemble I have worn that day. I considered that maybe my fashion sense was still asleep at 6:30am, so I decided to pick my outfits the night before. By morning, no matter how perfectly each shade and pigment had matched, I was confronted by a lack-luster pile of fabric. No matter how incredible a color scheme I had created, the outfit was unfit to wear.
The only thing I have ever found more puzzling than my inability to choose something to wear was why these clothes could not be worn. I am not much into pants; I actually own only a few pairs. I really adore shirts, blouses, sweaters, hoodies, and coats though. I love all of my shirts in their own way, for instance my dark brown v-neck, spotted with golden stars. This shirt came my way by luck; my mom happened to be returning some gaudy gifts received from an old friend. She saw the comfortable brown tee and called me to ask if I thought I would want it. “Yes,” was the answer that rang into the receiver. I wore it to a party, where beer was spilled near the bottom. Driving in the car, a stray ember burned a circle in the front.
Now, the charred hole is covered by an attempt to make a gold star out of tan thread. I love how much character my brown shirt has, but some days I just can’t wear it! Do I subconsciously dress according to mood? Do I wear skirts when I want to feel better, or the color grey when I’m happy? I am sure weather has a role in my choice of apparel because when it rains I will wear my short length pants rather than medium length, so they won’t get as wet around the bottom. Other than that, most days I am left clueless as to what I will walk out of my house wearing.
Many of my mornings have become experiments, rather than the usual morning get-up. I have tried choosing my outfits before I get in the shower, but I always decide that what I had previously picked just isn’t good enough. I have asked someone else to choose what I will wear, but I do not have a strong enough will to keep myself from this compulsion. The only thing I can do is wake up before the vanilla sky is visible through the slits of my window and hope I have enough time. Some people may never be able to comprehend this problem of mine, but they have to understand that even I do not know the method behind my madness.