I have clothes like Imelda's got shoes.
Jul. 26th, 2009 10:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
x_losThe situation in my closet has long been as miserable as that of any given Eastern Block nation. For all the years I was away at college people have been storing unwanted clothing in there, as it's roughly the size of any given Eastern Block nation as well. I've never had the time and energy to purge
1) items I thought were acceptable in my mad adolescence,
2) terrible gifts, and
3) things that I have never and will never fit into.
When I said I was cleaning it out, my younger sister whinged that it wasn't /my/ closet so much as a hellish and unnavigable communal storage space. I feel that, with the exception of books, if you haven't seen or missed something in a year and a half or what have you, you ought not to own it any more. Also that we have two large garage sized storage rooms for a reason, that being the provision of places to shove whatever items people can't stand to store in their own room yet cannot bear the thought of giving to someone who might actually want and use them.
The following is largely culled from AIM transcripts, as throughout the day I chronicled my horrific discoveries, reaching out to friends for support in these darkest hours.
A special thanks to Danny King, my Life Coach, Fashion Consultant and Sheep Wrangler, who sat through two hours of gchat!video conversation as I held up shirts for his examination that most reminded us of the feeling of despair you get from 'Dirty Dancing II: Havana Nights.' You see, I was suffering from garment fatigue. This is a sort of fugue state you enter when you look at so many pieces you loose your ability to descriminate between good and evil. "Can I pull this off with leggings? I DON'T KNOW ANYMORE."*
Danny's eyes were as yet untainted by looking upon the Lovecraftian horror of my closet.** As the night grew darker and I worked my way further back into that black abyss, we found things no man could see and remain unchanged by.
There are many ponderous life questions I'll never be able to answer: Why won't my mother get a divorce? Am I really a good enough older sister? Who put this wool magenta blazer in my fucking closet? The same whimsical bastard who snuck in these camo-print cordoroys? And why? Did they forget how to make fire? Forget the development of human civilization, these pants are the reason man first got his friction on with twigs.
Also, remember my brief period as an adolescent whore who apparently worked for Claire's Accessories Gift Certificates at a truck stop in Jersey? Because my closet sure does. I've discovered cheetah print in here. With black. translucent. sleeves. My girlfriend suggested that I might have been planning an elaborate "Survival" themed Cheetah Person Halloween outfit (and possibly bought this off ebay in a drunken blackout period?), but no costume could possibly justify 'animal print.' And besides, if I'd been going for that I'd have woken up with a depreciated bank account, a pony and a fleet of adopted cats from the local shelter out back.
I'm pruning through this sartorial Chernobyl in stages. Right now (and this has taken like, a good full day) I'm essentially using a Time Traveler's Wife based standard. If a girl, let's call her Alba, turned up at my door, naked and displaced, and politely asked for something to wear, and all I had at hand was this article, would I be too ashamed to give her it? Would nudity and exposure be preferable to this tank top with a picture of Tinker Bell and pink, cursive script reading 'Perfect Pout?' if yes, fold and put in plastic bin #3.***
Later, once I've narrowed it down to 'clothing suitable for humans,' I will try and determine whether it's clothing I want in my life, and if it's not, thrift, gift or Goodwill it. I want to be able to find a ready, decent outfit without a hour of questing. And this is clearly the first step towards getting together an effective, essential wardrobe for moving overseas for grad school.
Bear in mind, it hasn't been all 'is that HYPERCOLOR?!' I've unearthed about three Museum Replica's Limited Lord of the Rings costumes--again, no idea who bought these. Several Bengali wedding attendee gowns once owned by my sister are also kind of great, though I don't think I can get away with the cultural appropriation of rocking a lot of saris. Like Padme says, there's still good in him. It. The Closet of Infinite Horror and Wonder.
So that's been my weekend, or a lot of it. Today I stared into the walk-in closet, and it stared back. ...and then some shit from the top shelf I'm too short to even reach fell down and plonked me on the head. Seriously, who put suitcases up there?
*This is similar to Mall in the Middle East Syndrome, specifically Israeli-itis, where every clothing store and/or general wardrobe sampling outside downtown Tel Aviv and/or the Ramat Aviv mall presents such an assault to the senses that, to protect itself, your body enters a state of shock. In this state you can no longer determine whether or not a given combination of clothing is the visual equivalent of sitting through an Ayn Rand novel book-on-tape as read by Gilbert Gottfried. As has been mentioned, you loose the power to distinguish between good and evil, so it's a lot like Purim, but with less alcohol and more terrible raised-platform shoes.
**Oh, how I long for such purity...
***YES.
1) items I thought were acceptable in my mad adolescence,
2) terrible gifts, and
3) things that I have never and will never fit into.
When I said I was cleaning it out, my younger sister whinged that it wasn't /my/ closet so much as a hellish and unnavigable communal storage space. I feel that, with the exception of books, if you haven't seen or missed something in a year and a half or what have you, you ought not to own it any more. Also that we have two large garage sized storage rooms for a reason, that being the provision of places to shove whatever items people can't stand to store in their own room yet cannot bear the thought of giving to someone who might actually want and use them.
The following is largely culled from AIM transcripts, as throughout the day I chronicled my horrific discoveries, reaching out to friends for support in these darkest hours.
A special thanks to Danny King, my Life Coach, Fashion Consultant and Sheep Wrangler, who sat through two hours of gchat!video conversation as I held up shirts for his examination that most reminded us of the feeling of despair you get from 'Dirty Dancing II: Havana Nights.' You see, I was suffering from garment fatigue. This is a sort of fugue state you enter when you look at so many pieces you loose your ability to descriminate between good and evil. "Can I pull this off with leggings? I DON'T KNOW ANYMORE."*
Danny's eyes were as yet untainted by looking upon the Lovecraftian horror of my closet.** As the night grew darker and I worked my way further back into that black abyss, we found things no man could see and remain unchanged by.
There are many ponderous life questions I'll never be able to answer: Why won't my mother get a divorce? Am I really a good enough older sister? Who put this wool magenta blazer in my fucking closet? The same whimsical bastard who snuck in these camo-print cordoroys? And why? Did they forget how to make fire? Forget the development of human civilization, these pants are the reason man first got his friction on with twigs.
Also, remember my brief period as an adolescent whore who apparently worked for Claire's Accessories Gift Certificates at a truck stop in Jersey? Because my closet sure does. I've discovered cheetah print in here. With black. translucent. sleeves. My girlfriend suggested that I might have been planning an elaborate "Survival" themed Cheetah Person Halloween outfit (and possibly bought this off ebay in a drunken blackout period?), but no costume could possibly justify 'animal print.' And besides, if I'd been going for that I'd have woken up with a depreciated bank account, a pony and a fleet of adopted cats from the local shelter out back.
I'm pruning through this sartorial Chernobyl in stages. Right now (and this has taken like, a good full day) I'm essentially using a Time Traveler's Wife based standard. If a girl, let's call her Alba, turned up at my door, naked and displaced, and politely asked for something to wear, and all I had at hand was this article, would I be too ashamed to give her it? Would nudity and exposure be preferable to this tank top with a picture of Tinker Bell and pink, cursive script reading 'Perfect Pout?' if yes, fold and put in plastic bin #3.***
Later, once I've narrowed it down to 'clothing suitable for humans,' I will try and determine whether it's clothing I want in my life, and if it's not, thrift, gift or Goodwill it. I want to be able to find a ready, decent outfit without a hour of questing. And this is clearly the first step towards getting together an effective, essential wardrobe for moving overseas for grad school.
Bear in mind, it hasn't been all 'is that HYPERCOLOR?!' I've unearthed about three Museum Replica's Limited Lord of the Rings costumes--again, no idea who bought these. Several Bengali wedding attendee gowns once owned by my sister are also kind of great, though I don't think I can get away with the cultural appropriation of rocking a lot of saris. Like Padme says, there's still good in him. It. The Closet of Infinite Horror and Wonder.
So that's been my weekend, or a lot of it. Today I stared into the walk-in closet, and it stared back. ...and then some shit from the top shelf I'm too short to even reach fell down and plonked me on the head. Seriously, who put suitcases up there?
*This is similar to Mall in the Middle East Syndrome, specifically Israeli-itis, where every clothing store and/or general wardrobe sampling outside downtown Tel Aviv and/or the Ramat Aviv mall presents such an assault to the senses that, to protect itself, your body enters a state of shock. In this state you can no longer determine whether or not a given combination of clothing is the visual equivalent of sitting through an Ayn Rand novel book-on-tape as read by Gilbert Gottfried. As has been mentioned, you loose the power to distinguish between good and evil, so it's a lot like Purim, but with less alcohol and more terrible raised-platform shoes.
**Oh, how I long for such purity...
***YES.
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no subject
Date: 2009-07-27 05:00 am (UTC)As for the Bengali outfits- I will probably be attending more weddings in the future and would actually wear those. Or, I think you should rock them to some formal event, because I don't think gorgeous clothes should be limited to one ethnic group? As long as you aren't wearing it as a costume or some silly shit like that.
Speaking of which, I found a kimono for Friday....
no subject
Date: 2009-07-27 09:54 pm (UTC)There are not enough events that call for awesome formal clothing of any stripe! I've got /gown/ things I love and do I ever get to wear them? Fuck no.
Oh excellent re: kimono!
no subject
Date: 2009-07-27 06:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-27 09:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-27 08:41 am (UTC)you know you want to.
no subject
Date: 2009-07-27 09:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-27 01:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-27 09:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-27 09:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-27 09:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-27 01:42 pm (UTC)MY EYES. MY EYYYYYYEEEESSSS.
no subject
Date: 2009-07-27 09:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-27 04:44 pm (UTC)2) Can I put all or at least part of this on
no subject
Date: 2009-07-27 09:38 pm (UTC)Sure! Flattery will get you everywhere.
no subject
Date: 2009-07-27 10:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-28 05:34 pm (UTC)I love all your posts. They srsly make my day. XD
no subject
Date: 2009-07-28 11:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-28 06:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-29 12:00 am (UTC)