Purpose of Clothing

Beyond the obvious (ie, clothing keeps me warm, clean and presentable) lately I've been thinking about my relationship with my closet.

I know that generally my style is pretty consistent. I'm not one of those girls that vacillates between cowgirl to rockstar to hippie chick to prepster and back again.
Variety, in my mind, is over-rated and causes much to much angst.

 I met up with an old friend yesterday and his first question was "Is something that matter?"
To be fair, he's my gay best friend, so he knows me very well.
But I didn't really even consciously realize what I'd been picking out of my closet, which probably seemed a little incongruous in the heat for a brunch date.


clothing by erind90 featuring gold ring

He just waved at me and added "You just look.... fierce"

I guess I hadn't even realized it but I was definitely in a don't-fuck-with-me mood.

You know the ones.

It seems that for the past month I've been donning clothing as a sort of armor.

I guess I just need clothes tailored and sturdy enough to hold all the squishiness in.

Not so much physical squishiness (when I'm stressed you'll find me in the gym, remember? Trust me, my abs have never looked better) but definitely emotional squishiness.

I thought I was over the Mr. Smith situation but he decided  last week that it would be a good idea to call like nothing had happened.
Trust me, I had a few words to share with that man.

But really, I just wish that the whole thing hadn't happened at all.  
It was quite a shame. We made such a good pair, and I thought that I'd finally found a guy who could keep up with me physically, mentally, and emotionally. But cheating really is just unforgivable.
I think it shows a lack of respect, which I simply won't tolerate.

I just found it interesting how I express myself through clothing, but at the same time my clothing supports me. It really is a symbiotic relationship.

Pulling on leather and animal prints, strapping myself into a pair of stilettos and my Alice + Olivia bustier top, and swiping on some red lipstick.
I feel like I'm pulling on an extra layer against the outside, something tougher and stronger than what I'm feeling inside.
If I'm not feeling 100% I can at least look like I am right?

But so it goes. Talk to me again in a week or so.

Perhaps by then I'll have paid off my debt, be acing my classes, and have fallen in love again.
Then the chiffons, laces and blushes will come trotting back out of my closet. : )

But until then, pass the Russian Red and Prada please.

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