Words for My Enjoyment

I Can No Longer Dress Myself

July 9th, 2005

Life is full of cycles.

You are born bald, without teeth, without the ability to talk or go to the bathroom on your own, with a limited range of communication skills and somewhat helpless. And on your way out of this world, it is often more of the same.

But there are cycles of learning that, while they do not represent the helplessness of new or old life, they can make you feel like a complete idiot with no concept of what to do, how to do it or why you’re even concerned with doing it in the first place.

I am speaking to “dressing” ones’ self.

When most people hit the age of 6 or 7, they’ve developed a certain confidence about themselves. A certain ego that allows them to pick out what they want to wear for the day. Whether it involves wearing clothing that we know is “of the moment” or clothing that we’re comfortable in, scientists have been quoted as saying:

“Around the sixth or seventh year of a human’s lifespan, the part of the brain that focuses on color coordination and fashion begins to develop. Ninety-five percent of all human beings, no matter their culture, background or financial standing all begin to develop the skills to match a variety of pieces of clothing in putting together a fully-functional fashion look…”

The problem is that “dressing ones’ self” is a talent that we develop at an early age, and which we lose in our late 20’s… How do I know this?

Well, look at me. Seriously. Loooooooook. Do you see?

Whereas we were once able to determine that you don’t wear a horizontal striped shirt with a vertically striped pair of slacks… While we were once fully aware that wearing a dew rag with a dress shirt was wrong… Even though we used to know that wearing a huge Tommy Bahamas’ hawaiian print button down shirt to a wedding probably isn’t the best idea…

Not anymore.

There’s a point where the shit pretty much hits the fan — and we have no idea at all about what to wear, how to combine pieces of clothing, and for what reason we even care about such trivial issues. If I feel like wearing a backwards baseball cap, a button down shirt and a pair of courderoy shorts with white socks and flip flops — I’m gonna damn well do it no matter what anyone says.

That’s until someone says, “Yeah, you really can’t dress yourself any longer, can you?”

I’m not quite sure what has happened to me, but somewhere in my late 20’s the portion of my brain that was good at dressing myself went on vacation. Now, I find the need to ask people close to me if things match. I am desperate for advice on what is “hip”. I, actually (and this scares me) pay attention to “the looks” in magazines in an attempt to determine what “the kids are wearing these days.”

I never used to care. I didn’t have to. I used to be able to dress myself.

But today, I must admit that I can no longer dress myself. Here and now, with such a serious admission, I must tell you that I am currently wearing a yellow Kangol hat, a pair of parachute pants and a tank top that says, “Waaaaassssupppp!?” on it and I’m feeling ready to go to a formal event.

See?

I can no longer dress myself — and, well, I really see no end in sight.

Posted under Fashion. |