Some people enjoy shopping for clothes and if I can ever bring myself to go out and buy a hat, it will be off to them.
You know the type. They stroll by a store on their way to mail a letter, see a sweater they like in the window, walk in, try it on, buy it and wear it home. Life is easy for these people.
In contrast, there are many unfortunate souls in the world who haven’t a clue what they like, what’s in, what looks good and what goes with what. For them, the experience of buying clothes is unpleasant at best, traumatic at worst.
They are a confused group, wishing they could look like the people in the catalogue pictures but never quite managing it. The latest fashion trends are always disappearing over the top of the next hill just as they come to the bottom of the one before it.
Two years after the very last person to ever wear a red and yellow striped velour pullover with a zipper in the collar and a giraffe on the breast pocket has thrown the garment away, they go out and buy one.
These people can most often be seen circling the clothing racks in the stores with stunned and saddened looks upon their faces. They know they have to purchase something, or face being mistaken for a vagrant the next time they walk down the street, but they just wish they didn’t have to be the ones to do the buying.
If someone else would bring them home a big box of clothes once a year, heave it on the floor at their feet with orders to, “Here. Wear these!”, they would. And they’d be perfectly happy to do so.
The problem with these otherwise-normal individuals cannot be fully understood without considering certain aspects of their characters.
First off, for the most part, they grew up in frugal homes where the early years of their lives were spent walking around in clothes several other people had walked around in before them.
To find out what they’d be wearing in the coming year, they only had to look at what their slightly older relatives wore the year before.
This was a good system and they wish it was still in effect. Even now, they often have to resist the urge to go up to a person wearing something they like and say, “You mind lettin’ me know when you’re through with that shirt?”
Unfortunately, to their eternal woe, this hand-me-down business led these people to believe clothing should cost very little. Free is about the right price to pay, in their minds.
Therefore, long after the aunts have stopped bringing around the cardboard boxes filled with the cousins’ socks, shoes, shirts and shorts, they just can’t get used to paying for what used to cost them nothing.
They become, in time, professional bargain hunters, proud to tell you about the amazing distance they can stretch a penny. Nothing could make them happier than to get three nice belts for five bucks or two neckties for 99 cents. While this practice may keep them in belts and ties, it rarely keeps them in style.
The second flaw in the personalities of these people is their obstinate disregard for the importance of clothing. They acknowledge clothes are a handy way to keep strangers from staring at the naked body and yes, they sure work good for keeping out the wind, rain, cold and sun, but beyond that, their value is limited.
To the observation, “That coat is really you,” they’re liable to say in all grumpiness, “No it isn’t. I’m me. That coat is that coat. But if you think it’s me, let it pay for itself and the two of us will be glad to get out of here.”
To these people, keeping dressed falls about in the same category as keeping fed. These are things you certainly have to do, all right, but they’re not the sorts of activities you want to go and make a big event out of. They generally consider a $5.95 restaurant meal an extravagance that shouldn’t be repeated too often.
The final and most important reason many neople have trouble buying new clothes is they don’t want to part with the old ones. They’re sentimental about their old shirts, sweaters, pants, and yes, even their old socks.
That old jacket, for example, was bought with some of the money from their first full-time job and while the job and the rest of the money are long gone, the coat’s still here. To throw it out would be to toss away several years of memories and they worry their new life might get stranded out there in mid-air if they get rid of all the things that connect it to their old one.
That’s why, when they do finally get all their new clothes home and hung in their closet, they usually say, “There. That oughta do me for a while,” and then they put on their old jeans, socks, T-shirt and running shoes – the very things they bought the new clothes to replace.
Animals are lucky. Nature gives them one coat when they’re born, they wear it 10 or 20 years and take it with them when they leave.
How efficient.
©1987 Jim Hagarty
