Irrational Wardrobes

Ah, autumn is here. There's been a delay with the seasonal change in look for the blog, but hopefully we'll get the technical difficulties straightened out before winter sets in.

This summer, I assigned myself the project of cleaning out my closet. That's always fun in a way, if you enjoy organization as much as me, or get a kick out of the things you used to wear that you kept in case they came into style again. (New poll idea: Will Al regret donating those synthetic plaid pants in 20 years or so? Yes or no?)

But it's a job that requires you to be honest with yourself. You're trying to make room in your drawers so that you can actually close them. You really don't have the space to keep every piece of clothing you like. And then, if you're like me, you start to feel guilty about all the nice things you had to have but are now getting rid of because you just don't wear them.

There are so many things I have donned only once because of the length of the shirt or the depth of the neckline, or even the amount of sleeve--you know those cute little cap sleeves that rub your freshly shaven armpits until they burn like the dickens? There are so many ways a piece of clothing can make me fall in love with it, and then prevent me from feeling even minutely confident or comfortable in it.

Unfolding and refolding things, stuffing them in a gigantic bag, I kept thinking, "What a waste." There go all those t-shirts with quirky graphics or slogans because it was too risky to wear them with the hair on my stomach, and all those elegant scoop-neck blouses in beautiful colors because it's so hard to feel good about my chest. And necklaces--necklaces were my favorite kind of jewelry back in the day. Now it seems counterproductive to draw any attention to the neck and collarbone.

The problem is that, practical and realistic as I try to be, my head still gets turned by a great color and a flirty neckline. I know that it's best to invest in a crew- or boat-neck since I won't have to plan my week around wearing it when I'm able to get a good result from my razor, but there are so many other more exciting shirts around! I just blindly think: "I bet I could look nice in that," and forget that the chances of wearing a shirt that shows so much skin more than once in a season are slim to none. So many pieces of clothing that I thought I couldn't live without hanging neglected and eventually given up for adoption; it's kind of a tragedy for a girl.

I have a confession, though. I've hung onto a few audacious articles out of pure optimism--and when I say "audacious" I mean anything offering more than a glimpse of the clavicle. One day, there might be a special enough occasion to coordinate trousers, shirt, and shaving my cleavage. And then I swear I'll look fantastic. ;P

Thankfully, shopping for autumn is a little bit easier, with the abundance of turtlenecks and the opportunity to layer practically any exciting sweater over the most boring crew-necks in innumerable combinations. And long pants are a necessity. And growing out one's fur is sound judgment for any mammal. Well... maybe that's needlessly cheeky to say. But I'm in a pleasant mood and wanted to talk about something flippant and stereotypically girly tonight.

Also, I am trying to get into the spirit of shopping for, of all things, another cocktail dress for a wedding reception. One of the most deliberately flirty examples of an outer garment one can buy. And clever me, I leave it to the last minute. I struck a bargain with myself that I would not be allowed to peek into a dress shop until I'd had my next blood test, so of course I put it off and put it off and put it off. There was no dizziness at all with this one, though. I wonder if I'm getting better?