Shedding the Skin

Literally, this time. I'm the world's worst shopper. I hate shopping so much that I panic when I need something and buy the first thing I see. As a result, my wardrobe consists of a large number of mismatched things (puffy feather boas, miniskirts, carpenter's overalls, dresses with enormous sunflowers on them and so on), and I end up wearing the same pair of jeans most days. My friends sometimes go out and buy socks for me, but mostly I look like something you might have found dropped on the sidewalk.

But no more! I've decided to turn a new leaf and to become a fashionable, exquisitely dressed goddess. I'm going to take out every single item of clothing I own, try it on, decide its fate and act. If there is something wrong with it, it will go to the "donate" pile (assuming anyone would want my rags). If it's ok to wear, I will have to decide what its family might be: the other things I will wear with it and the accessories. Yes, accessories!!! Even a feminist can learn to accessorize.

I'm going to get a lot of jewelry with skulls and crossbones and Fuck Bush signs, and also scarves and belts with the same, and each outfit will have a little tag saying which skulls and bones go with it.

Moreover, from now on I will dress from top to bottom in the same color scheme. No more bright red shoes with neon-color pink tops and plaid pants. Your eye will glide over me as if resting on a sophisticated painting, and you'll never even notice the snakey bits!

Well, this is the plan. The first snag became apparent today when I went out shopping. Every single piece I looked at was made in China. I have nothing against the Chinese, but aren't there any other manufacturers alive anymore? And women's clothes are crap. They are made shoddily and cheaply and they cost more than a first class ticket to Rapture. Then they didn't let me try the jeans on in the boys' department. What did they think I would have done in the dressing room? So I went home empty-handed. Tomorrow I will try the second-hand places, to see if things are any better there. If not, I may have to get used to nakedness as a permanent state of being.

It will be very hard to throw away some of may favorite pieces of clothing, I fear. Could I use the doctoral robes as a bathrobe? And an almost unused tiara must surely be good for something; maybe at a Republican tea party? Or the joke underwear? This will be a lot tougher than I expected.