Recently, via a Facebook status, a friend pointed out the origin of the word nostalgia. It’s apparently a compound of the Greek words nóstos meaning homecoming and álgos meaning pain. Needless to say I’ve been nóstos-álgosing all over the place since the conclusion of Seven Days of Wool. While both a week and a trend are ephemeral by nature, the nostalgia of the two continue for quite sometime.
Completing a sartorially themed week garners a certain feeling of pride. I had managed to produce seven similar, yet different outfits all revolving around one fabric: wool; each day forced to be a little more creativity than the last. To date, I’ve spent a collective two weeks dressing via theme and if nothing else I’ve learned the advantageous qualities of guidelines; that is, their ability to facilitate some level of creativity.
Generally when wondering what shirt, shoe or sweater will inspire the subsequent articles, I draw from thin air. I rarely give myself any sort of guidelines; I walk around my room, put something on and snap a selfie. Seven Days, however, has been a sort of launching pad for, if for nothing else, the ease of getting dressed.
Imagine my excitement when I found this fellow at Elsie’s yesterday. Before I even tried it on, I had a string of thoughts as to what the G could possibly stand for. I started with the obvious, as if a result of fate: gay. Moved on to: great, Gameboy, Gary, gargantuan. Ghastly, gang, ginger ale, German Sheppard, gastroenterologist, gaudy, gas, gourmet. Ghandi?
It was clear I would never know what the uber talented person who created this masterpiece had in mind when dousing the thing with an giant applique of the letter G, but I was allowed to wonder and wonder I would. The next step in my acquaintance with said masterpiece was darting into the change room and putting that woolen wonderfulness all over my upper-body.
I put it on and proceeded to do several full turns to ensure I gathered the whole picture. It wasn’t until I was well into my second full turn that I noticed an additional applique. A CAT. What was a cat doing on a sweater that was clearly meant to represent gastroenterology, the study of the digestive system and its disorders, I thought? What a twisted mind to have created such a thing.
I chalked up the juxtaposition of a bodily study with a rather aggressive head of a feline to creative genius, gave Elsie 20 bucks and headed home to watch the new episode of The Good Wife. In case you’re wondering, we call such days, a success.
Vintage varsity sweater / Topman jeans / Vintage leather jacket
Day three found me listening to some friends present a communications plan they had developed for a woman who’s a wardrobe consultant. They presented, the client talked and the whole thing went really well. At the end of the presentation my comrades’ client said something that I found interesting and relevant to what I do here every day – ‘Wardrobe isn’t the most important thing in life, but when you get it right you can forget about it.’
The comment led me to think if I had reached my wardrobe potential. Does my closet have everything it needs to ensure I do? How would I know if it doesn’t? Will someone tell me? Is it an innate realization? A mixture of cringes from society? Getting the stink eye from the bus driver?
If one’s wardrobe were to reach its full potential does that mean you’ve narrowed yourself to one look? One set of colors? Textures? Or does potential mean a myriad of choices and style? Can one person have several defaults? Personally, my look changes from day-to-day and my closest reflects so. There are no strict guidelines and how I look is often a result of how I’m feeling. And I have A LOT of feelings.
Anyhow, what do you guys think?