"Naked people have little or no influence on society.” -Mark Twain
Every year or so, I go through a wardrobe crisis (note, this is not to be confused with a wardrobe malfunction). A wardrobe crisis is when you find yourself standing in front of a closet full of clothes bemoaning the fact that you have nothing to wear. The problem with wardrobe crises is that when you are reminded of your lack of clothing, you're typically in no place (read: naked and late to work) to take immediate action. So, you reluctantly throw on a comfort-outfit and forget about the problem. That is, until the next morning when you re-ride the emotional roller coaster. It typically takes me about a month to crack.
Last weekend, on that rare occasion in which retail therapy solves the issue at hand, I made a quick spin to the mall. While I hate the mall, I never end up buying what I need at those hipster boutiques that I frequent all-too-often. For example, when I realized I was in desperate need of jeans (when you live in a city like San Francisco and appreciate colors, you can get away without jeans for months) I decided I absolutely need to hit up a hole-in-the-wall gem of a store to buy a tote bag (pictured to the right). Whizzing through the mall on a self-imposed, unfounded schedule, I made purchases that both figuratively and physically fit me well. Phew, I thought as I walked home with all my bags. Finally I have something to wear.
I couldn't wait till Monday morning, when I would hop out of the shower and drop my towel to a wardrobe of endless options. When the moment finally arrived, it was exactly as I anticipated. I made my wet, squeaky walk from the bathroom to my room where I turned on my music and opened my closet. I ran my fingers across the left half of my clothes (I hang my clothes up from newest to oldest). In one smooth motion, I slipped off my towel and slipped on a shirt and pants. I felt like a million bucks. But guess what? I was wearing a shirt that I bought over a year ago and jeans that I've had long enough for them to fit perfectly, be too small, and be too big (let's call them Goldilocks Jeans).
As I made my coffee in the office kitchen that morning, my manager walked in to grab her breakfast. "Hey I love your shirt!" she greeted. This thing? I thought. "Thanks." On Tuesday and Wednesday, I considered wearing something new, but it didn't feel right. I wanted the perfect opportunity, whatever that means. Now, the entire week has gone by, and I somehow managed not to sport any of my new clothing (and yes, I did wear clothes every single day).
What's interesting is that simply knowing that I have a few new pieces of clothing at my disposal not only transformed my perception, but also profoundly changed my reality. Without wearing a single new garment, I didn't feel that I was at a loss. There was happiness in the availability of new clothing. The possibility of a new outfit. Equally important to note is that my apparent wardrobe crisis, an undesired constraint, fostered my creativity. I turned to neglected shirts and began pairing tops and bottoms that I had never previously combined.
More often than not, we find ourselves disappointed by what we don't have, which drives us towards further disgust in what we do have. But simply reminding yourself of what is always available to you, what is continually possible, is really all it takes to reignite that confidence in your potential. From there, you will open doors that were closed, but more importantly, ones you never knew existed. Compare every problem to the feeling of having no clothes. One where, regardless of the feeling, you have to wear something. This attitude is the only way to break through the metaphorical closets in which life traps you everyday. After all, unless you live on a beach in Barcelona, you're going to need to get dressed every morning for the rest of your life.
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| Proud owner |
I couldn't wait till Monday morning, when I would hop out of the shower and drop my towel to a wardrobe of endless options. When the moment finally arrived, it was exactly as I anticipated. I made my wet, squeaky walk from the bathroom to my room where I turned on my music and opened my closet. I ran my fingers across the left half of my clothes (I hang my clothes up from newest to oldest). In one smooth motion, I slipped off my towel and slipped on a shirt and pants. I felt like a million bucks. But guess what? I was wearing a shirt that I bought over a year ago and jeans that I've had long enough for them to fit perfectly, be too small, and be too big (let's call them Goldilocks Jeans).
As I made my coffee in the office kitchen that morning, my manager walked in to grab her breakfast. "Hey I love your shirt!" she greeted. This thing? I thought. "Thanks." On Tuesday and Wednesday, I considered wearing something new, but it didn't feel right. I wanted the perfect opportunity, whatever that means. Now, the entire week has gone by, and I somehow managed not to sport any of my new clothing (and yes, I did wear clothes every single day).
What's interesting is that simply knowing that I have a few new pieces of clothing at my disposal not only transformed my perception, but also profoundly changed my reality. Without wearing a single new garment, I didn't feel that I was at a loss. There was happiness in the availability of new clothing. The possibility of a new outfit. Equally important to note is that my apparent wardrobe crisis, an undesired constraint, fostered my creativity. I turned to neglected shirts and began pairing tops and bottoms that I had never previously combined.
More often than not, we find ourselves disappointed by what we don't have, which drives us towards further disgust in what we do have. But simply reminding yourself of what is always available to you, what is continually possible, is really all it takes to reignite that confidence in your potential. From there, you will open doors that were closed, but more importantly, ones you never knew existed. Compare every problem to the feeling of having no clothes. One where, regardless of the feeling, you have to wear something. This attitude is the only way to break through the metaphorical closets in which life traps you everyday. After all, unless you live on a beach in Barcelona, you're going to need to get dressed every morning for the rest of your life.
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