in which i am unsuited to life on earth (episode twenty-six)
I have an amount of stuff to do tomorrow that qualifies as redonkulous, so I will of course whine about... clothes.
I need some. Because I keep shrinking out of things (not growing out of them as often, happily), murdering them in the wash, or witnessing their inescapable decline into masses of pills. Also, the colors I can wear are found only in fall and sometimes winter palettes. I do not DO the colors available from the end of January until the end of September. Ever. Ever ever ever. Whoever decided that salmon pink is a cheery, girly color that belongs in every summer season for the last decade (eta: also that "summer" is in FEBRUARY) simply needs to roll over and die. I have finally procured three more instances of my favorite long-sleeved black T-shirt, and one promising instance of something in 60% gray, and that's all very good, but sometimes a girl needs red. I'm starting to see salmon everywhere. Blech.
The other problem is that I expect clothing clothes (true fact: the word "clothing" sounds like "mange" or "bilious", not like something you would consider putting on your body) to be speccable. At present, for example, I think a red camisole and a brown pair of jeans would round out what I have on hand nicely, and I would like to think that manufacturers (esp. those whose jeans fit me) see how reasonable this attitude is. Going shopping with any foregone idea of what you actually want to own seems to be the completely wrong way to go about it. I basically want to be able to exchange part numbers and cash dollars for a bag containing the desired product and get on with my life. It's not that I hate shopping so much as I hate the garment industry. AND IT HATES ME RIGHT BACK.
I need some. Because I keep shrinking out of things (not growing out of them as often, happily), murdering them in the wash, or witnessing their inescapable decline into masses of pills. Also, the colors I can wear are found only in fall and sometimes winter palettes. I do not DO the colors available from the end of January until the end of September. Ever. Ever ever ever. Whoever decided that salmon pink is a cheery, girly color that belongs in every summer season for the last decade (eta: also that "summer" is in FEBRUARY) simply needs to roll over and die. I have finally procured three more instances of my favorite long-sleeved black T-shirt, and one promising instance of something in 60% gray, and that's all very good, but sometimes a girl needs red. I'm starting to see salmon everywhere. Blech.
The other problem is that I expect clothing clothes (true fact: the word "clothing" sounds like "mange" or "bilious", not like something you would consider putting on your body) to be speccable. At present, for example, I think a red camisole and a brown pair of jeans would round out what I have on hand nicely, and I would like to think that manufacturers (esp. those whose jeans fit me) see how reasonable this attitude is. Going shopping with any foregone idea of what you actually want to own seems to be the completely wrong way to go about it. I basically want to be able to exchange part numbers and cash dollars for a bag containing the desired product and get on with my life. It's not that I hate shopping so much as I hate the garment industry. AND IT HATES ME RIGHT BACK.