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| "Dress Casual!", says every store I visit |
I cannot continue to make fun of the Bostonian fashion. In the last six months or so I noticed a strange phenomena in my wardrobe. It slowly seemed to have changed from a well of colorful treasures to a closet that I barely recognize. I pick one thing, then another, then another, yet I don't seem to be able to find anything I fancy wearing.
Something similar happened to me when I moved to London. After only a year I was living there, I couldn't help finding stuff that I wasn't keen to wear, mostly large, straight cut Italian garments. Although classy, they were ideally suited to old Italian widows crying behind a Saint in religious processions. "Io quella pelliccia li' che mi hai dato per Natale non la indossero' mai! Guarda che vivo in Inghilterra, non in Italia! De Gustibus Mamma!" (There is no way I will wear that furry coat you have just given me for Christmas! Don't forget I live in England, not in Italy! De Gustibus Mom! ) Amazing how perspectives and matters of taste change relatively to the country where you live. Winter was not winter in London without me wearing my extra small double breasted long black coat alongside my chunky black leather boots. Similarly, summer was not summer in Ireland without me wearing my khaki Capri pants with cargo pockets. Funny how I used to dislike those before moving to Ireland! Same with my pairs of big ass Indian women's pants I could not do without when I was living in New Delhi. I was keeping them in my wardrobe hoping to find an occasion to wear them. Few months after my return in the UK, I remember hiding those pants in a suitcase on top of the wardrobe.
I now look at the first shelf of my wardrobe and all I am able to find is a pile of long sleeved striped tops. If they don't have big ass stripes either in the colors or in the pattern - not that the prep thin blue stripes on a cream color from Anthopologie look any more stylish! - they have a washed out look from the colors fading away or some other hippie details which make my clothes look all old and worn out. Then on the top shelf, I see a couple of intimidating looking polos starring at me as if they were saying: "I know I am casual but at least I am plain! Go on, wear me! ". Then my eyes go to the bottom shelf of my wardrobe and I see a large collection of tee-shirts with either sport themes or comics printed on them, the sort of thing which only children would wear these days in Italy. What happened to my former look?
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| Buy them, use them and chuck them away. Understood? |
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| Yet another top with stripes, just more expensive |
Here in the US I simply cannot help sticking everything in the washing machine and in the dryer constantly. As a result, the nice sweaters I used to wear (and not wash) in London have now all turned into rags for cleaning floors. How about my pretty tops and dresses from French Connection and Monsoon? Where are they? They are in the attic, for this simple reason. What is the point of wearing expensive and uncomfortable clothes to cook spaghetti ragu', to walk in neighborhoods where there are only houses and few people jogging in sweats and to wash dirty clothes? See what I mean? There is no point.
And, to tell you the truth, now that I have a broken sesamoid in my left foot I cannot help but praising the advantages of the Bostonian look. Quick and easy and, above all, pain free! And now, if you would like to excuse me, I am going to the nearest mall to see if I can buy more tops with stripes to put in my wardrobe.
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