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The Shopping Chronicles
Hey all,
This is one of several articles I have written recently, aiming to get them published in some sort of free street press.
Just wanting to know whether you think it is interesting (of course), unique and has a voice strong enough to get published.
Thanks in advance!
On Again, Off Again
If I told you that the way you interact with your clothes can parallel the way you interact with men, would you laugh at me?
I bet you would.
But before you roll your eyes and turn the page, answer this: have you ever had a piece of clothing that, despite knowing it did nothing for you, you could not bare to part with? Maybe it was an old jumper or a holey pair of flesh-toned knickers, or maybe, like me, it was a humble pair of trackie pants.
I remember I first met him during Autumn/Winter 2004. He was velour, navy blue, loose fitting and for a mere $34.95, the ideal laid-back addition my wardrobe needed at the time. Initially, he suited me perfectly, complimenting my shape on days when I was feeling flabby, sleeping with me on cold winter nights and seeing me through countless DVD nights on the couch. We seemed like a perfect match.
But as any female over the age of fourteen knows, the honeymoon period doesn't last forever. Before I knew it, my beloved trackie pants started to, well, disappoint me. He stretched completely out of shape, faded to a much duller version of his once dark and handsome self and even started to publicly draw attention to my behind in the most embarrassing of ways. Over the next few months and after several gentle suggestions from my close girlfriends ("are you sure you want to wear those to the gym? That cute guy goes on Wednesdays"), I decided I needed to dump him. You know, throw him to the curb (literally- it was bin night).
I could do it. It's only a pair of trackies, right?
Wrong! Instead of throwing him to the curb, I went on a "break" with him. I found myself repetitively marching to the laundry and putting him in a plastic bag to throw out the next morning, only to dig him out later that night when I needed some comfort in front of the couch. Because that is really all it boiled down to: comfort. Much like a boyfriend you so desperately need to dump but find yourself coming crawling back to, comfort and familiarity is what you are returning for.
This "on again, off again" phase of our relationship lasted a good six-months until I built up enough resolve to march him straight out to the wheelie bin and throw him right on top of the empty tuna cans and milk cartons so there was no chance (well, okay, a smaller chance) that I would take him back.
And it worked… but only for a while, because then came the detachment phase. The following two weeks were hell as I realised the empty hole that had been left in my life as a result of our break up. One morning I got up at 8 AM (when it was 5 degrees outside) to go for a walk when I reached for him only to find a teeny-weeny pair of white running shorts. And what was I to lounge in now? All my old trackies looked so undesirable and I couldn't even be sure they still had my number. My entire wardrobe was out of sync! I was stuck in jeans, for God's sake, even when I was cleaning the toilet! Who did I think I was? I was wishing so badly I still had him in my life.
Yet now, three months on, the adage "time heals all wounds" is certainly relevant. I don't regret the (ahem) two years we spent together. I have a new pair of trackies and our relationship seems very promising.
Like all relationships, with clothes, accessories and (probably more commonly) with actual human beings, we grow from them and learn from them.
So what have I learned? Have the courage to leave him when it's just not working for you.
Oh, and never trust a man in velour.
Last edited by missmia86 : 01-22-2008 at 03:18 AM.
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