I know the correct term is “clothes horse”, but who are we kidding? I mean, really.
I thought I would take a brief moment today to talk about something other than sex (which, like everything else, is all in my head.) Although I will say, for those of you keeping track, that my sexuality is so looped at the moment, I am practically a gay man. Which means that if I tell you you’re hot, you have to take it as gospel. Seriously. Gay men don’t lie… at least not about that, anyway. (It also sort of explains my obsession with catchy show-tunes… and costumes… hmmm…)
But we digress (for now, anyway).
I love clothes. I mean, I LOVE clothes. Well, perhaps it is more like lust than love, but you get the idea.
Current list of things I NEED in my wardrobe:
1. Band Jacket
4. This dress
5. These Ray-Bans (in Cherry Red, please!)
I could totally wear all those at once, no?
Okay, who knows… but the point is, I want them! I don’t really need to save up money to go travelling, do I? I mean sure, travel would broaden my horizons and introduce me to new cultures and ways of thinking and art and music and life. But clothes I can have RIGHT NOW!
I guess I should probably focus on cultivating actual life experiences, instead of buying pretty things. But what can I say? I like the instant gratification.
Plus, clothes actually look good on me now!
In the past, shopping was all about what I needed in order to have a fully functional wardrobe. Shopping was fun in theory, but never in practice. In high-school this was because I had no money and had to depend on the charity of my parents… which meant buying hardly anything, EVER. But when I came back home from Toronto (where I “ran away to” the fall after graduation) shopping was even worse. No longer a mere irritation as it had once been, it had at this point graduated to the status of sheer TORTURE.
I had gained weight. Like, a lot of weight. And I had always been skinny! (You remember that scene in “Selena” where she says that the way she maintains her figure is by eating hamburgers and never exercising? Well that was pretty much me… only smaller.) Being over-weight(ish) made it pretty difficult to enjoy shopping, because everything I tried on just served as a reminder that I needed to lose weight. And really, did I need to be reminded of that every time I was innocently shopping for work-appropriate clothes? No, I did not!
All this discomfort with the way I looked was bad enough in itself, but to deprive me of the joy of new clothes? CRIMINAL. Because I LOVE new clothes. The way I feel about a store newly filled with the latest trends cannot be described. Although if it could, the words “lust” or “ravenous” would probably be thrown around quite a bit. It’s a little unhealthy, sure, but it’s also just one of the many things that quickens my pulse, causes my pupils to dilate, gets my blood boiling, and flushes my cheeks… which is a really good look, so really, who cares if it’s unhealthy?
Of course, it would be fine if I could just be a crazy-excited observer of fashion, an appreciator of the art, if you will. But I can’t. I have to get involved. I have to embody that new idea, that reinvented concept. And now that I find it easier to find things that look hot not only on the hangar, but on me as well, how can I refuse? I can’t, I tell you!
I wonder if there’s a pill I can take for this?