Shirting the issue
As much fun as it was to write my last little dialogue, it’s mainly fictional details spun around a core of truth. The precise circumstances under which I learned about the magical properties of my shirt were changed, and in some instances wholly fabricated, to protect the innocent. And in the interest of full disclosure, I believe I did wear the shirt one time without any apparent affect on the men I encountered. (Even magic shirts are allowed to have off days.) (Yes, I have worn this shirt a lot.)
Importantly, I want to note that I realize that core of truth is not “a magic shirt” but rather one that makes me feel so good, so comfortable when I’m wearing it that it kind of shines through. It’s hard for me to describe. I have had a contentious relationship with clothing over the years. Some of it had to do with my weight. Some of it had to do with my inability to stand up to ridicule and criticism from others. At various times in my life I’ve made strides toward developing a personal style, but unfortunately a number of these strides were made at particularly awkward and adolescent times. No sooner would I try to branch out then I’d get mocked/slammed/shunned/whatever by my peers.
How I wish I had been strong enough not to listen, not to care. But I wasn’t, so I cared, a lot. I made my major concern fitting in for a while. Then I made my major concern “being comfortable.” In a lot of ways that hasn’t changed. What some items of clothing have taught me recently (the magic shirt, the perfect high school reunion dress) is that at its best, clothing can be both comfortable and striking, even stunning. It can inform a mood and affect the way you carry yourself. It’s been a bit of a revelation because I usually laugh off anything having to do with “fashion.” While this doesn’t get me any closer to understanding couture, it does make some things seem clearer.
As an example, I recently met a lovely older woman whose personal style I admired. In the course of our conversation (we were both volunteering at a local blues festival), she mentioned that she’d had the long denim skirt she was wearing since 1969. It struck me immediately that she had achieved what I wanted: such a sense of herself and her style, her comfort, that there were pieces of clothing that had actually become pieces of her character.
Will I still have my magic shirt in 41 years? If it holds up, then yeah. Maybe I will!
August 25, 2010
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Jen · 
4 Comments
Tags: clothing, fun, self · Posted in: Uncategorized
4 Responses
I enjoyed reading this. Personal style has so much to do with ease.
I very much enjoyed the dialogue, though thanks for pointing out that you provided both sides. (I couldn’t decide which side was you, as they both sounded like you.)
One time I got the stupid job-interview question of “what is your greatest weakness?” and I leapt on it: “I never know what to wear. I once wore cargo pants to a customer meeting. If you want me to dress a certain way for a certain occasion, you have to tell me explicitly, or I will almost certainly mess it up.”
“I think we can deal with that,” the guy said. (Hey, in my line of work, wardrobe sense is a feature, not a requirement.)
I like Amber’s comment above, too. It almost ceases to matter what people are wearing, if they can carry it off with enough aplomb.
(Logical conclusion: adolescents will look awkward, no matter what they wear.)
Thanks, Amber! It does, and it’s been hard to get my mind around it sometimes. Even still with work clothes, to this day, the ease is the hard part.
Katherine, you’re so right – adolescents have real trouble pulling off style, because…hello, awkward. And thanks!
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