June 13th

Wednesday Night

Sometimes I feel like my life revolves around clothes. If I had the right outfit, I'd be cool. I guess it goes back to elementary school, where I first learned to care too much about outfits. I coveted tight Guess? jeans and a Benneton sweatshirt. If I only had those, then I would be cool. If I only had Reeboks, Keds, Converse, Esprit shirts, Farlow jeans, Edwins, black stirrup stretch pants with EG socks over them, a Guess? jean jacket. I didn't even go to a wealthy school, but I was constantly bombarded by labels. My parents never had a lot of money. Finally, in the sixth grade, I got a "recycled" pair of Guess? jeans at the flea market, a no-name jean jacket and generic white hi-top sneakers. I thought I was the shit, parading around in my skin tight jeans, making sure my butt was visible to everyone in class so they could see the question mark on the back pocket. Labels were important.

As I grew older, I began to detest labels, just like everyone else does. I shunned brands like Tommy Hilfiger and Calvin Klein. "What am I; a walking billboard?" I would say.

Now, I don't care. If I see a cute tank top that happens to say BEBE and it's under $20, I'll get it. If capri pants are trendy but look good on me, I'll get it. Maybe it's apatheticness, maybe it's reverse pyschology, I don't know. Wear what you want.