It’s no secret to anyone with eyeballs and any sort of moral compass that we live in a society of over-consumption. We want, need, and crave new things. We envy those who have them and “Is that an iPhone 3GS?” those who don’t. Things, stuff, shit; whatever your prefernce for label, it’s everywhere and in a growing number of circles, it’s everyone.
I’m not here to preach about the dangers that owning too much stuff bode for our society (of which I’m sure there are many), though. If I did that there wouldn’t be a Man Up, since it is in fact nothing more than a collection of all my things (with brilliantly crafted commentary). What I am going to do though is 1. Say happy New Year (Happy New Year!) 2. Show pictures of my most recent acquisitions and 3. Speak to the fact that I’ve tried to be more selective regarding my purchases (hence the intro).
When I first started paying attention to what I was draping over my body I was in the sixth grade and had just gotten my first ‘dress shirt’ and pair of glasses, simultaneously; which let’s face it, is the perfect sartorial catalyst for any closeted pre pub. For the next two years strategically placed dress shirts became my staple, until the eigth grade when I stumbled across layered polos.
Fast forward to my first year of university and I was buying every sweater and plaid shirt Value Village had to offer. It was my grudge hipster-chic period and nothing could stop me. Brown stains? It’s just character! Itching sensation? Dang that moisturizer! Fourth time catching crabs? It must be from having all the sex!
Within the year though, I’ve started to refine my wardrobe how one might their palette, by exposing it to delicacies like ‘new’ clothing and 100% wool – but you know what they say, you can take the guy out of the hipster cat-embroidered synthetic cotton/rayon 50/50 blend pullover, but you can’t the hipster out of the guy.
American Apparel pea coat / Club Monaco deer skin gloves / Vintage monk strap shoes
Albeit, the days are sporadic, they are no less woolderful. Today for instance, includes characteristics such as: a popped collar with leather detail, thrifted wool and a reversed DIY-collared denim jacket. While the following has little to do with my outfit for day six and more to do with the prospect of me living in a box come January – I’m nevertheless about to vent on the difficulty of finding living quarters in Toronto whilst currently living in Halifax.
I’ll call, we’ll chat, several pictures will be exchanged, a monetary email will be sent and voila, I’ll be sheltered for the winter months; if only. The difficulty in the process of ensuring both myself and my manfriend aren’t spending the winter months getting in touch with nature can easily be equated to the difficulty of looking at this and not feeling bad for everyone involved. EXTREMELY difficult.
What has been several months in the making has now gone beyond solely affecting my living situation to chipping away at my self-worth. I’m beginning to wonder if it isn’t the scarcity of apartments but the dullness of my voice? volume of emails? or maybe the hyperbolic nature of my approach, i.e. ’I'm OVERJOYED at the sight of your apartment’, ‘My heart beats to your apartment’s drum’, ‘Your one bedroom fills a hole in the depths of my being incomparable to another inanimate object.’ that’s leading to an unprecendented number of no’s, sorry’s and get-away-me’s.
Just today I received an email that said, in its whole, ‘Not the way it works.’ If giving you an outrageous amount of money to live in an apartment that may or may not be large enough to house my collection of plaid, not to mention me, isn’t the way this works than I’m at a loss for words. When did finding somewhere to sleep and watch Homeland become so difficult? With that being said, if anyone has suggestions of places to look, or even better a penthouse condo in downtown Toronto free of charge, I’m all ears.
Also, day six.
Yesterday I wrote you from the floor of my now ex-apartment and tonight it’s from the open sea – as I make part one of my leg to Toronto. Boat attire you ask? Denim and plaid obviously. The vastness of the ocean doesn’t change my opinion on denim. That makes sense, right?