Up until now, I pretty much ignored the recent fall-winter dress-code. I did read the right magazines and look over the right girls, but all in all, I did not go to the length of actually purchasing any item pertaining to this season. Try as I may, I don't see myself in thigh-high boots and thanks to the economic crisis, I wasn't even in a position to let myself be won over by this Robin Hood trend.
But a couple of days ago, I gave it another thought and decided to go shopping. I knew my bank manager wouldn't be pleased, but someone has to start spending and getting the economy's wheels grinding again. Selfless as I am, I decided to sacrifice myself for the greater good. Granted, humanity hasn't done much for me, but I could be the better person by starting to do something for humanity.
So yes, I went shopping. I got myself all the right items for this year (not including the boots) - a short black leather jacket, the latest jeans I've been pining for and a bunch of tops and skirts, not to mention the accessories that got me salivating. Oh, I was on a roll, matching colors, cuts and fabrics. I was sure that if my bank manager saw me now, with my latest acquisitions, he would fall to his knees, struck with awe.
I went home, bouncing as cheerfully as my future checks. I was particularly excited over the prospect of showing off my new garb at the dinner party I had that night. And so, preparing myself to go out, I dove merrily into my chosen outfit, made up solely from the day's harvest. I assure you the items I wore fit one another perfectly. The jacket, the jeans, the cardigan, the shoes, the necklace, the bracelets, the earrings, the scarf... In my mind, I saw my bank manager, still on his knees, proposing to me, his eyes brimming with tears.
That is, until I saw myself in the mirror - a very unhappy experience. Oh, my clothes looked very nice - the jacket, the jeans, the cardigan, and all the rest. I was following the dos and dont's to the letter, wearing it as I should, accessorizing to perfection, and yet it didn't work. I looked bland, soulless and downright boring. I could hear my bank manager huffing and puffing over my account.
I sat down utterly miserable, completely at loss at what had gone wrong. I did all I was supposed to do, following fashion's orders like a soldier blinded by faith. Certainly, I went into battle with enthusiasm and conviction, so how could I lose?
I was staring beady-eyed into my sad pile of sparkly new and useless attire, when it finally dawned on me - a soldier indeed, I fell, alas, into uniformity.
I have a friend who has always disliked the appearance of women who follow fashion with every inch of their being, but personally, I couldn't relate to her criticism. I thought it was only the result of her feeling self-conscious, poor simple soul. But seeing myself wearing my shopping spree, I got it only too well. I lost myself in the trend maze and in the process I have become uninteresting to the point of yawning.
Oh, Quirkiness, forgive me, for I have forsaken you. I've worshiped the jealous God of Trend and I've been turned into a coat hanger. Trying to free myself quickly from the curse, I stripped myself in an instant and hugged lovingly an old, out of shape sweater that was lying around. I looked closely at my new purchases and picked out one article I liked best - my jacket. It was to become the highlight of my outfit for the night. The rest of my attire was composed of simple clothes, not outdated, but not blinding by their trendiness, either. And as a finishing touch, I chose a pair of red pumps that I've owned for a while but that I still love very much. The top is an intricate, beautiful work of leather, while the heels are quite odd, almost ugly, as a matter of fact. And that's just what I needed. Perfection is for ninnies.