What came of packing.

I have a proposition. How about we leave the typical psychological/theological/spiritual/deep reasoning tone that pervades everything I write and talk about something less taxing on the brain? Like fashion.

Seriously.

I've spent much of today both taking a walk down fashion memory lane and shopping in my closet, so such matters have been on my mind.

The stroll down the road of the past was triggered by a cleaning out of my decade-old bag of nail polish. (By the way, if you're wondering whether nail polish really does go bad, give it 8-10 years and it will.) Most people who have only known me since my late teens don't know that I was formerly an obsessive nail painter in my adolescent-mid teen years. My toes nails, that is. They were always painted. And I didn't let the paint chip. I kept them up regularly and changed the color often.

Until the one time that I did let the pain chip and wear. Then it was that I realized my heart was no longer in it. So I stopped all together. Thus my vast nail polish collection sat in its cute pink bag, where it was allowed years to separate and coagulate into pigmented chunks.

Something else that could be said of me in former times is that I was an obsessive and compulsive matcher. That is one of the primary reasons my nail color changed so often: it had to match my clothes. My shoes had to match my clothes. My hair accessories had to match my clothes. My bracelets and necklaces had to match my clothes. Most importantly, my clothes had to match. There was very little color-blending on my person. I was often a monochromatic wonder.

But could you blame me when a sea of one color, even one color in varying shades, brought a calmness over me that few other sights did? That's why I did it. A clash of color brought about turmoil in my senses and I tried to avoid inspiring turmoil with my ensembles by consciously trying to promote peace with them. (Okay, so I couldn't stay away from psychoanalysis altogether. I suppose that's what happens when one gets a degree in thinking. Or maybe I got a degree in thinking precisely because I can't squelch it. Moving on....)

That's only the tip of the iceberg of my obsessive/compulsive tendencies. Internally high-strung and uptight was I. In more recent years, I've become much more laid back. Sloppy even, in certain areas. And when it comes to choosing clothes to wear, I am sometimes downright cavalier with the colors I wear side-by-side. (By the way, a wash of monochromaticism still inspires calm within me. I'm just not as dependent on that calm as I once was. I've actually become somewhat of a chaos-seeker. But that's another conversation entirely.)

This matching vs. non-matching was brought to my attention as I was closet shopping. I'm preparing for a trip and browsing through my closet is something I always end up doing in the process. I usually feel compelled to not wear the same thing too often. Packing for a trip is a prime occasion to plan my outfits ahead of time and see if I can't come up with something I haven't worn before.

In case you're wondering, I was successful in my endeavors this time. I came out with the following color combos: brown, black, red and yellow; blue, pink and grey; blue, purple and yellow. This was one of my more cavalier days.

I also noticed and began to ponder other recent trends in my dress:

• Skirts pop up more often than they did in the past. I quite like to wear them now. When they're the right kind. They inspire a feeling of fun, and as I'm not the kind of person to care above an ounce about either keeping my clothes clean and orderly or appearing ladylike, wearing skirts does not hinder me from being my same sloppy self. Now I just look cuter when I'm doing it. That's what I tell myself.
• I'm a layer queen. Nothing I packed for this weekend is devoid of layers. I have shirts to wear on top of shirts. In the winter, I rarely make a public appearance without tights or leggings underneath my shorts/skirts/dresses. They serve the dual purpose of making my clothes look more interesting and covering my legs so that I don't have to wear pants. I typically consider that to be an accomplishment.
• I've lately been into belts. What inspired me was this really awesome orange one I inherited for free from I can't remember where that's woven out of thick yarn, is tassel-like on the end and looks like something awesome from the '70s. I told myself I had to wear it based on that merit alone. Then my attention was drawn to other belts in my possession that were being neglected. Upon adorning myself with them, I found I liked them.

Something that hasn't changed in a great many years is my distaste for wearing shoes. That's a trend that still continues. If anything, it's intensified. I only wear them because there's a social obligation. Even then, they fall off whenever I think I can get away with it. Along with my relinquishing of matching, this growing dislike of shoes has relieved the pressure of them having to match. I don't wear them enough to worry much about how they fit my ensemble.

Lest you get the wrong impression, I also feel like I should throw in here that it doesn't take me long to get dressed. My swiftness often propels my bold color mixing, because I don't take much time to think it over. I also don't wear anything fancy. Like I said, I'm sloppy and unladylike. Fancy and I aren't friends. At best we're occasional, cordial acquaintances. I also no longer accessorize to the hilt. The most I do is pull up my hair. But I don't even do that often, choosing rather to let it air dry and look like a long mess.

Now it's your turn, friends. What do you like to wear? Something that I don't? Like socks? Or pants? Maybe you like hats? I've been intrigued by hats, but can't decide if they're too much trouble or not....