February 17 HAPPY SNOW DAY! (first one of the year for us, at least the first one with actual snow, in Charlottesville.)
I’ve been in a clothes funk lately, which started in late November when I was in a tizzy over what to wear to a yacht club function. Our club is not fancy, usually, but this annual event is when all the serious duds come out to play. It’s hard to recognize people who live in shorts and flip flops during sailing season when they’re dressed in cocktail dresses, jackets and ties. I was halfway debating not attending the event (not really, but maybe . . .) just because I was so freaked about clothing.
I like stuff from White House Black Market but think the prices are insane. I like the prices at thrift stores (and the recycle reuse concept too) but cannot stand the shopping experience. In general, shopping is not my thing. Is this a leftover emotion from when nothing fit well? Worry about money? Complete lack of confidence in my non-existent sense of style? Utter bafflement at what things cost? Mourning that I somehow lack the “girl” gene that’s been beaten into American women as a necessary part of existence?
I got over that event angst, but lately the funk has reared its head again. I hate 90% of the clothing in my closet (so went through and pitched a whole huge bag full - this is what I have left. No joke.) and wind up wearing the same thing over and over, which makes me depressed about, um, not looking awesome. But there is absolutely no way I want to go spend money on crap clothing that will, likely, wind up sitting in my closet until I admit I hate it and give it away.
This funk extends to workout shorts. I’m down to one single pair that I like (at least kind of), and they are getting threadbare. The shorts I can source (so far anyway) are all skin tight compression shorts (which I cannot stand), baggy heavy disgusting basketball shorts that look like you could fit 3 people in, shorts that are so short you can see underwear peeking out, or yoga pants. Maybe capris.
Really? I cannot be the only woman in America who wants reasonable shorts that go about halfway down my thighs (or at least a couple of inches lower than my butt curve, thank you very much) that are not skin tight.
Oh, and while we’re at it? I’m not spending $69 on a pair of shorts. Are you kidding me?
I think I’ll have to stick to borrowing my husband’s boxer shorts to exercise in. They’re the right length, right price, and reasonable weight. They look like crap, and it’s clear I’m working out in underwear, but there are good reasons I work out at home.
A friend, a very astute friend, who has been patiently responding to my “woe is me” rants on Facebook about this clothing issue, pointed out that my issues with clothes are like a lot of people’s issues with exercise.
“I just had a realization: the way you feel about clothes with all of the different aspects that make it so frustrating and hard to move forward for you is the exact same way many people feel about exercise. Despite many different "ways/solutions" offered to your initial dilemma it only results in more frustration and a desire to give up before you start. That is all. I've got nothing else. “
Would I be happier clothing-wise if someone just said, “Hey. Buy these 4 items and you’ll be good for a couple of years. Here is the perfect dress. Here, I’ll make the decision for you.”?
Is part of the real issue here a lack of decision-making prowess and not necessarily the rest of it?
Food for thought.
Maybe I need a personal shopper, one who will not take NO for an answer.