I'm not going to lie. I really adore Anthropologie (just not that the most I can buy from Anthro with my fifty-dollar gift card is one scented candle... I'm kidding. But not really).
There is something therapeutic about trying on beautiful, overpriced clothes that you have no intention of actually buying. The other day I walked around the back of the store in a $240 dress for a while just because I really liked it and knew I'd never get it (let's be honest, that's the equivalent of a plane ticket that could take me somewhere I really want to go). No wonder fashion-savvy girls with their parents' credit cards look so chic all the time. The rest of us would probably look fairly good on a day to day basis too if we could constantly shell out that much money for pricey (albeit well-made) clothes.
There was a time in my life (i.e., when I was first acclimating to my new Southern California, private college environs) when I almost subconsciously aspired to be and look like those kind of people. You know, the carefully styled, beach-y bohemian California girls with wardrobes as inexhaustible as C.S. Lewis's and gorgeous blond hair to rival any red-carpet starlet's.
As often as I reminded myself that this quasi-aspiration was extremely shallow and materialistic and that I really didn't want to look like that anyway, I still found myself insnared by an ever-present desire to go shopping and completely overhaul my own wardrobe. I never actually did this, of course. I tried to set my sights on contentment and thankfulness, because that's really the only acceptable attitude that comparatively well-off Americans should ever have anyway.
But especially after staying in Turkey, Jordan, and Israel over the course of last semester, my perspective has completely shifted. I donned the same few clothing articles day in and day out for over four months, and I found to my great relief that I could function perfectly happily with very little as far as attire was concerned. I was satisfied with what I had, and relieved not to feel defined by what I wore or where I shopped.
And now being back, something in me is fundamentally appalled by the materialism of so many girls here. I find the carefully styled, beach-y bohemian thing so...unnecessary. I'm no longer striving to fit in with people who I want to be seen with. There are so many more valuable and quality interactions and relationships to be had, and so many other more worthy things to strive for.
Do not misunderstand me. I enjoy fashion, and I am definitely a proponent of putting your best, classy foot forward.
But did you really decide to pay that much again this weekend for another new outfit from Free People?! Maybe you could free some people by not buying more clothes for yourself. Maybe you could be ungrudgingly, uncovetously satisfied with what you have.
Maybe we could all afford to take a critical look at our own materialism.
There is something therapeutic about trying on beautiful, overpriced clothes that you have no intention of actually buying. The other day I walked around the back of the store in a $240 dress for a while just because I really liked it and knew I'd never get it (let's be honest, that's the equivalent of a plane ticket that could take me somewhere I really want to go). No wonder fashion-savvy girls with their parents' credit cards look so chic all the time. The rest of us would probably look fairly good on a day to day basis too if we could constantly shell out that much money for pricey (albeit well-made) clothes.
There was a time in my life (i.e., when I was first acclimating to my new Southern California, private college environs) when I almost subconsciously aspired to be and look like those kind of people. You know, the carefully styled, beach-y bohemian California girls with wardrobes as inexhaustible as C.S. Lewis's and gorgeous blond hair to rival any red-carpet starlet's.
As often as I reminded myself that this quasi-aspiration was extremely shallow and materialistic and that I really didn't want to look like that anyway, I still found myself insnared by an ever-present desire to go shopping and completely overhaul my own wardrobe. I never actually did this, of course. I tried to set my sights on contentment and thankfulness, because that's really the only acceptable attitude that comparatively well-off Americans should ever have anyway.
But especially after staying in Turkey, Jordan, and Israel over the course of last semester, my perspective has completely shifted. I donned the same few clothing articles day in and day out for over four months, and I found to my great relief that I could function perfectly happily with very little as far as attire was concerned. I was satisfied with what I had, and relieved not to feel defined by what I wore or where I shopped.
And now being back, something in me is fundamentally appalled by the materialism of so many girls here. I find the carefully styled, beach-y bohemian thing so...unnecessary. I'm no longer striving to fit in with people who I want to be seen with. There are so many more valuable and quality interactions and relationships to be had, and so many other more worthy things to strive for.
Do not misunderstand me. I enjoy fashion, and I am definitely a proponent of putting your best, classy foot forward.
But did you really decide to pay that much again this weekend for another new outfit from Free People?! Maybe you could free some people by not buying more clothes for yourself. Maybe you could be ungrudgingly, uncovetously satisfied with what you have.
Maybe we could all afford to take a critical look at our own materialism.
Want and needs. Wanting a $240 piece of fabric, not bad. Needing one, need I say more? Needing one over and over? UUUGGGGGGGHHHH. Keep up the good work and autorkeia and God bless you. The compassionate are favored.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Andrew!
Delete