There are people all across the world that are passionate about what they wear and how they look. Just observe the rush to pick up the latest releases of glossy magazines on a weekly and monthly basis and you will see what we mean.
Imagine walking into a small room. A light switch on your left is flipped, and your eyes are bombarded with colors of every shade!
Skirts and tank tops hang on the left, next to a hanging organizer that holds Nike shorts, hats that I never wear (because I hate wearing hats), and tank tops that I’ve grown tired of, all of which are shoved carelessly into random pockets. I know that I’ll regret this unorganized decision later when I’m scrambling on a deadline to find something to wear. There’s an ugly orchestra uniform hanging, cleverly hidden behind a rack of bags, most of which I never use. Of these bags, there are two dollar tote bags of The Great Gatsby and Of Mice and Men that I bought from Barnes and Nobles, old Vera Bradley bags, and the only bag I actually use, a bright pink one cross body bag from who-knows-where that my mom presented to me a couple months back. On the floor, there’s a little dresser that holds towels, pillowcases, and bedsheets.
Look directly ahead, and you’ll notice that there are lots of similar looking jeans of all different sizes that have accumulated from 8th grade. Skimming your eyes from left to right, you’ll notice that these pants gradually get more and more patterned. Polka dots, hounds tooth, and BAM – flashes of red, first bright like ROY G BIV and then darker, of oxblood color. Then, you’ll see dresses that are probably too short to actually be dresses, that I’ll probably just wear over jeans, and with a cardigan. Notice that there’s little variety to my dresses; I just really like sleeveless scoop necked stuff. Then, you’ll see jackets of all sorts. Northface, Abercrombie, and Urban Outfitters, galore! If you happen to peek into my closet on a Sunday night, you might see a rack of clothes that I’ve picked out for the week, as I like to do this.
Glance right, and you’ll see a big row of sweaters and shirts of all sorts of colors, all sorts of styles. Buttoned, graphic, tee shirts, you name it, it will probably be in my closet, somewhere. And there shall be fancy-schmancy dresses that I’ve worn maybe once, either from big events like 9th grade PDC or just from poor fashion choices that haunt me from freshman year.
Look up and to your right, and you’ll see a stack of random blankets that I’ve accumulated over the years. A pink and purple flowery one that I got as a birthday present in third grade is one of my favorites. I don’t even remember who gave it to me, and my mom tells me its really bad quality, but it has such a comfy and familiar feel, sort of like my Kenya t-shirt.
On the ground sits a big blue suitcase that I use for debate travel, a mini fan that I took to debate camp. There’s a container full of belts and scarves that I seldom wear; I stick to 1 basic belt and scarf. My summer clothes sit neglected in a storage box, filled to the brim with light, wispy fabric and bright, airy colors destined to be worn in the summer. There’s a white box that sits innocently on the floor. Lift the lid, and you will find stacks and stacks of paper (“flows”) that I have accumulated over the years from debate camp, debate tournaments, and practice debates at school. I like to peak in there once in a while and note how much my handwriting has improved. My shorthand writing has gotten much more efficient, and there’s more ink on the paper, as I have gradually become less dependent on my dear computer.
Ultimately, the best thing in my closet would be my boxes. No, not your ordinary box that holds clothes of some sort like I previously mentioned, but rather, the box of nostalgia.
These shoe boxes are full of scraps of paper and mementos from years past. I peek into them as I write this post, and this is what I see:
- 5$ straw glasses
- A badge from Dragoncon
- Receipts from my favorite restaurants
- Friendship bracelets, long worn and broken
- Photo booth pictures
- Tags from my favorite clothes
- Those super strong wristbands that you wear when you go ice skating
- Plane tickets
- Maps of college campuses
- Room keys from camp
- A deflated beach ball from who knows where
- Movie ticket stubs
- My old, ripped up Iphone case
- Chopsticks from one of my favorite sushi restaurants
- Letters from when I actually wrote to my family when I went away to summer camp in third grade
- My journal from 1st and 2nd grade
- Tokens from arcades
- My first college letter for when I truly thought Texas Christian University was offering me a scholarship
- Notes that I wrote to my friends from 7th-9th grade
That’s right, I’ve kept all of these random items. Why not just throw these things away? They are just useless clutter that take up space in your closet.
Well, I guess you could say I’m a bit of a sentimental freak. I keep almost anything that I encounter. In the drawers of my desk, I have stored old, used up pens, pencil nubs, candy wrappers, spanish vocabulary notecards from 7th grade, and every receipt EVER since 9th grade. I keep all my old disgusting nail polishes and broken earphones, every metal bottle cap I find on the street or in the dumpsters (just kidding about that last part). I don’t know why, but I just do.
My closet is kind of special. It is a defining, physical aspect of my life that shapes who I am. Each bag of old clothes ready for Goodwill demonstrates the person I used to be, contrasted with who I have evolved into today.
It’s a funny thing, when you see a person that – with a little effort and know how – could easily become much more noticeable … in a good way.
You know what I’m talking about, right? All the time, I see people at my school that neglect their bodies and their looks. It feels strange to imagine what I might look like if I totally didn’t care about looks. Continue reading
When we were kids, we dreamed of being the most popular kid in school.
Now, it’s different. Being hipster is now the new cool. BUT WHY? I ask myself this each and everyday. Continue reading