Jul 10, 2013
So I was sifting through my minimalist wardrobe the other day, (literally the most minimal of all the minimalist wardrobes...what have I done) when it dawned on me that this whole experiment of finally quitting mindless consumption for the sake of a simplified life filled with ethical decisions, renewed interconnectedness, reduced autonomy, less neurosis, and more money to allocate to "experiences" versus "materials" (do some air quotes with me here) is completely and utterly, well, bull crap! You see me above? Yeah, that's me. I'm doing that face where I feel ridiculous on the inside but it comes across endearing on the outside.
Well anyway, there I am in a completely thrifted outfit. Not only have I embraced a reductive lifestyle in the context of consumption, I've chosen to not participate in propagated designer or fast fashion until more ethical options are wildly accessible. And clearly that was a lack of oxygen to the brain on my part, because had I known I'd be giving up a life of blissful ignorance, a plethora of choices at all times in all places of business for everything imaginable, opportunities to painfully compare my closet to those of others while adding shit I don't need, and the ability to develop my style based on a concocted formula of copying, trending, and filling in with freebies...well had I known all that, I wouldn't have done the damn experiment. Why? Because as a minion of the fashion industry I've come to enjoy certain aspects of life. Little luxuries that have now ceased to exist. I have to actually challenge myself to get intimate with my body shape again (hanging on to a high school waist size does wonders for bathroom mirror affirmations), flattering colors or eras of dress (turns out buying orange to seduce yourself into liking orange like that other blogger said doesn't work!), and create daily looks with the same amount of clothing as someone of a lesser class, or even those who are poverty-stricken might have. GASP. All for what? This is madness.