Thoughts on getting dressed

Unlike apparently every other person who writes about the function of clothes, even if weather and the law permitted, I wouldn’t walk around naked all the time. Really. I like my clothes, thank you. Oh, sure, being naked’s fine and dandy and somewhat more comfortable and infinitely cheaper, but let’s face it – I’m nineteen and not in love with my naked body and, like any other single nineteen-year-old girl, afraid that no one is ever going to be in love with my naked body.

Suffocate me in Lycra and nylon. Liberate me in cotton jersey. Give me cardigans, and belts, and cinch them tighter, tighter, until I have to stop slouching so I can breathe properly, give me socks that won’t stay up and saggy cotton underwear reserved for that time of month, give me pointless filmy lingerie that no one will ever see, give me my ratty, stretched-out laundry-day bras and wrinkle-attracting silk dresses that cost too much to be worn often, give me shoes that pinch and leave blisters and jackets that don’t keep out the cold, childish animal-printed thermals and ridiculous statement necklaces and graphic t-shirts that were bad decisions and a pair of beat-up canvas sneakers with permanent dirt stains and barely-there soles, but don’t don’t don’t tell me clothes are frivolous if you get dressed in the morning yourself because I doubt you'd walk down the street naked and try to ask for a pay raise. Or if weather did not permit, I doubt you'd do it in a not-technically-an-article-of-clothing Snuggie.

The fashion industry can be incredibly vapid. People can be incredibly vapid. But I think it’s stupid that I have to be afraid of giving the wrong impression because I happen to like getting dressed. That I have to think that today feels like a jeans-and-t-shirt day because I went over the top yesterday, or that I have to think about wearing something “more normal” to talk to people more important than me, or that I ever have to tone it down so I can be taken seriously in a classroom. It fucking sucks. And I don't want to do it anymore.

This isn’t supposed to be directed at anyone in particular. I just … was reading Closet Confidential (which is hilarious, by the way, and definitely worth buying) and Winona writes about making sure you’re getting dressed for yourself and lately I don’t think I have been. I don’t know. (What else is new?)

The point is that there is no point and I’d just like to get dressed for fun again. Prada or a security blanket. Same thing.

Nevermind. Have a picture of a marmoset. Let's call it a day.