What To Wear
I'm thinking of turning over a new leaf and getting interested in clothes. At Rio Hondo I said I wanted to maybe get some clothes because I didn't have enough clothes for a week. Not a problem at home where there is a washing machine, but you know, kind of embarrassing on a week long trip.We went down the mountain to Taos where Karen Fowler took me firmly in hand and picked out something and then when I said, 'This looks good, I don't even think I need to try it on," looked me squarely in the eye and said, "you do."
I ended up buying clothes! That fit! And then when I told Bob, he took me shopping and bought me MORE clothes. Granted, if you saw me in these clothes you would not think, DAMN. On the other hand, you wouldn't think I was homeless, either.
What is it about clothes? I find that when I try on clothes at the store I am appalled by the fact I don't look like me. Me, of course, is thirty. That's what I look like in my head or when I'm dreaming. I've always prided myself on not being obsessed with aging--I don't dye my hair, I'm not thinking about skin peels or botox injections, and I don't lie about my age. But here, underneath where I wasn't looking, is this thing about how I look.
Granted, when I lived in New York I mentioned to someone that when I bought a new item of clothing I always felt as if I were, in some sense, reinventing myself. You know, trying on clothes used to be an exercise in trying on personalities. (Although I came from a family that did not shop recreationally and was so poor in my twenties that I just didn't buy clothes.) I mentioned the trying on personalities thing to someone in New York and they looked at me through narrowed eyes and said, "You're beyond all that, surely."
So now I'm curious. Is the clotheshorse thing genetic? Is shopping in one's DNA? Or can it be learned? And what will it mean for Bob and our checkbook if I do?