Since becoming recently unemployed getting dressed in the morning has
turned into quite the chore. At my previous job (evil doggie daycare that shall
remain nameless) I could roll out of bed and go to work and no one would care
because my main interactions were with canines. The audience doesn’t get as
judgment free as a bunch of dogs. But now that I am back on the prowl
(#cheetahgirl) for a job I have been examining every article of clothing I own.
Some which have slipped under the radar for far to long.
I own a blue/azul modest
v-neck sweater with flower appliqué on the left breast. When I purchased this
sweater it was vintage. When I wore/cared for this sweater it became an abused
item of clothing. It spent time on the floor, stretched out over disgusting
wire hangers, and trampled upon by the babies (furbabies). So now when I pull
out this once lovely sweater it appears to fit as a brown sack would. Lumpy and
unforgivingly matronly. When dressing this morning however, I had to choose
this particular item as I was dressing to hand in an application at a craft
store with Christian under-tones (closed on Sundays, etc). I didn’t think they
would appreciate my vulgar tattoos
(women’s symbol, coffee cup, sass knucks).
After leaving aforementioned craft store however I was so filled with
disgust towards this lumpy sweater that I had to switch it out for a more
structured marching-band style wool jacket. The new addition to my outfit is
possibly a couple shades cooler blue than the previous sweater, but for some
reason it was eons more visually stimulating to me than the previous sweater.
I always find myself being particularly cleansed after I fight through
my closet and purge it of all ill-fitting, outdated articles of clothing. More
recently I have been replacing things that were bought on a whim or to satisfy
a direct need at the time; with pieces that I can visualize myself in for years
to come. My new mantra for closet life and real life is: quality not quantity.
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