There are many things that I have fallen in and out of interest in. I played the recorder for a month (to fit in), attempted to watch the Star Wars series once (for a guy) and dyed my hair blue until it washed out (forced by a pushy hairdresser). Yet, I have never lost interest in getting dressed. That is until the pandemic hit. Suddenly my inclination/inspiration to get dressed had vanished and alas so too did my wont to write about getting dressed. Fashion fatigue in a nutshell.
A jaunt around the park brought about an inner calm, but did not stir creativity. A trip to the coffee shop brought about much flustering and the inevitable steamed up glasses, but alas, did not conjure up words. The current not hot, but not cold springtime weather, amounted to many outfit attempts, but ultimately resulted in exasperated silence.
Of course, I don’t mean to sound self-pitying, whether or not I can muster up enough oomph to purge my brain out into the internet, is not a catastrophe, but it has been isolating. Whilst writing hasn’t always been a comfort (writers block is a stifling frustration), being at odds with my sense of fashion and my wont to get dressed, has left me feeling apart from myself in a way that is both unfamiliar and uncomfortable.
Over the past year and a bit, I have flitted between various ill-fitting jogging bottoms and on special occasions (namely the weekly trip to the supermarket) I have worn a pair of jeans (the baggiest, and therefore most comfortable, pair I own), but that has been the extent of my *fashion* endeavours.
What was once an impulse has been replaced by a paralysing lack of motivation to give my appearance any attention more than brushing my teeth and smoothing my flyaways. Something that working from home hasn’t exactly helped with.
WFH is a predominantly stationary way of life, which includes much sitting, periodic coffee breaks that require moving approximately 10 paces to the kettle, and infrequent visits from the postman, which mean walking 20 paces to the front door. When I’m feeling particularly energised, I use the bathroom upstairs and consider this exercise.
All of this is accomplished with very little effort sartorially, though elasticated waistbands are preferred. And this is how outfits have been constructed. On repeat. For the past year. A uniform of boredom and practicality; devoid of personality. And whilst uniforms make life easier - and who doesn’t need easy right now - ease is often the sabotager of creativity, of excitement, of variety.
Old routines, now removed, no longer offer the same sartorial guidance. When the weather doesn’t matter, dress codes don’t apply and plans have to remain unplanned, what is there to incentivise us to wear anything other than pyjamas? The motivation has to come from within, for no particular reason other than just because. And yet, deciding how we would like to present ourselves to the world is an exciting privilege. One that is all too easy to take for granted, especially in recent months.
Getting dressed is a means of communicating and interacting with the world. A difficulty when we’ve largely been cut off from that world. With in-person interactions replaced with video conferencing and socialising being substituted for social distancing, not to mention the pandemic necessitated need to WFH, what is considered presentable is now on a much wider and more fluid spectrum. The concept of acceptability has thus become far broader.
From the depths of my brain (which perhaps says more about the inner workings of my mind than anything else) the infamous line from ‘Mean Girls’ - “on Wednesdays we wear pink” - floated to the surface of my consciousness and I wondered if this could offer the repose from my lethargy that I so desired.
Finally the teen movie of my youth was providing me with more than just one liners to quote at parties, it was offering the inspiration needed to lift me out of my rut. Disclaimer: I don’t plan to employ the same dogmatic approach as that of ‘Mean Girls’ and I have decided that there should be no public shaming, or lunch made to be eaten alone in a bathroom stall, should I stray from my newly instated schedule.
Will there be pink? Probably. Will it be limited to only Wednesdays? No. Will I still indulge in joggers? Definitely. I do not wish to impose unrealistic constraints, especially when much of life has been curtailed (necessarily) due to the pandemic. Rather I will attempt to reintroduce denim, a shoe choice other than UGG boots, maybe some pattern and perhaps even a dedicated day to wearing some of the new items that I’ve stockpiled.
But as the world begins to slowly open back up, it seems necessary to shirk off the sameness and embrace change. Dressing for each day, instead of just getting through the week. Making the most of being able to outfit myself based purely on my passions. Leaning in fully to lazy days, days filled with excitement, the Monday slump and the Friday high.
Embracing the sartorial freedom that comes with seeing no one and going no where, especially as this is likely only temporary. In time we will be amongst the hustle and bustle and whilst this may be some way off and may never be as it was, we will soon be following routines and schedules that are outside of our control (meetings to suit the time of others, appointments agreed despite their inconvenience, plans made to appease others...) and our clothing choices will be based upon these outside factors.
Therefore now is the time to dress based on fancy and whim. Whether that means that my joggers accompany me to my Monday meetings and my Tuesday meetings, or whether I retire them in favour of something a little less comfortable and a lot more interesting, or (what’s more than likely) both! Using this time to swap my routine of boredom for a sartorial schedule that encourages the variety that’s been desperately lacking, is time well spent. And so far, “so fetch!”
(All images via Pinterest)
