It is an intimate relationship, regardless of style or comfort; it is quite personal. Maybe it is only a necessity for you. Maybe you shop for the trends alone. None of that matters.
The things we wear become a part of us. That worn pair of jeans can tell heartbreaking stories about a man, while another pair can blurt out random episodes of shopping and dancing. A favorite shirt, an accidental stain, a tear, a burn... Regardless of the haphazard way that I put an outfit together, my clothing and I have an intimate relationship.
Why do we wear the things we wear? Why carry that bag? Why that particular pair of shoes? Why continue to wear that same shirt year after year?
The things we envelope our bodies in become pieces in the story of who we are. One of my most precious belongings is a scarf that I've never worn. Things tend to become more than just things; they become the mementos of the past, of people, of lives that exist only in dreams.
I like to wear my long brown skirt because of the its soft texture. More than that I like the way that it allows the heat from earth to warm my legs. My thighs brushing lightly with each step, I revel in wearing that skirt. Clothing touches us, physically. It leeches the sweat and oil from our bodies, taking pieces of us with it as it leaves. I find myself picking out clothing more often for the way it feels against my skin than for the statement which it may or may not make.
Better than any piece of clothing, the feel of his skin brushing not so lightly against my own.
On a side note:
All the clothing talk is coming from reading Pamela by Samuel Richardson. Pamela is obsessed with clothes.. and herself. This isn't a book I'd recommend though.
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