What is the hold they have over us? We know they aren’t good for us and yet we want them. We know that as fun and exciting as they might be, in the long run they’ll let us down. We know better, but they still seduce us.
Men, that’s another story. I’m talking about those Mr. Wrong wardrobe items that promise so much and ultimately don’t deliver on their grandiose declarations of moonlight and “you and me, the world’s our oyster, baby.” They mock us from the darkest recesses of our closets like the sullen guy in the back of English lit class with the dark wavy hair and dreamboat eyes and the faint (or not-so-faint) aroma of pot and cigarettes. “You and me against the world” soon becomes “It’s all your fault” and we blame ourselves, our bodies for their failures. We all have them, I think, those inexplicable, self-destructive sartorial attractions.
I like to believe I’ve evolved emotionally, but they can still sometimes tug at my heartstrings.
Boxy Bouclé Jackets
These still catch my eye, and tempt me to try them, “just this once.” The song on the radio croons of glamour and an insouciante sophistication. But I know now to walk away, that some other woman’s shape will have to tame this beast, that I’ll only end up in an apron, standing in an empty driveway scanning the horizon and wringing my dishpan hands.
Specifically the kind of dressy, classic, stiletto heel that looks so great but that I find I can no longer walk in, and that no longer fit with my style or lifestyle. I have a couple pair that I hang onto “just in case” but unless my life takes a sudden turn down the red carpet, they will rarely see the light of day.
This Bad Boy has been the most difficult to kick to the curb. I love the mystery, the aura of cool, the slight frisson of subversiveness that I associate with black. Plus, it’s easy. A wardrobe of black lives in the moment, at the ready, without demanding a lot of complicated and long-term choices. Hop on the bike and go, where ever the road takes you. (But I caught a glimpse of myself yesterday in the mirror, looking tired and heavy and knew this particular Bad Boy was taking a toll.)
The Drab and Lifeless Cardigan
This Bad Boy may seem very deep and solid and soulful at first, but you eventually realize he’s probably clinically depressed and maybe more than a little bit self-involved, and is just dragging you down with him. Time to get away from this knit equivalent of a heavy sigh.
Do you have any Bad Boys still lurking in your closet? What keeps you holding on to them?
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