I've been thinking a great deal lately about the difference between clothes that're ugly and clothes that I hate.
This is mainly because although I recently (read: sometime last month) organized my closet enough so that I could enter it, it has now become so disheveled and crammed that although I can reach into it, I can no longer get into it. This makes it harder to chose clothes. So I generally go with what I can see. And this leads to some interesting choices. Many are the days I have appeared at work looking like I got dressed in the dark. I didn't, I just don't care if I match or not. And many are the days I have worn things I don't particularly like, just because they are clean and within reach.
There's a difference between things that are ugly and things that I hate. Some fit into both categories. Sometimes it's the way things fit or feel. They can be staggeringly uncomfortable. Or ill-fitting. Or just WRONG. They can be wrong. As I am trying on these garments I am putting them in the bag to go to the charity shop-- one monkey's trash is another's treasure, which is how I ended up with many of my lovely clothes in the first place. And I am glad to see them go to another good home.
But as I sometimes wear these emergency clothes (read: need to clean your room, Miss!) to work, I often think about how clothes make you feel. The subtle differences in your day when you feel better or worse just because you have the dark and guilty secret that you are wearing an elasticated waistband, or that you folded over the waist of your trousers to stop them falling down, or, as has happened to me, that your trousers DID fall down in the parking lot on the way in to work.
I'm trying. I buy clothes too large without trying them on. I have long felt that I am not good enough for good clothes. I am trying to feel better. But I do love my ugly clothes. I am just trying to love ugly clothes which actually fit. It will save me hours of parking lot humiliations in the long run.
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