April,
2003: wearing out
I admit that I'm not one for shopping. It's not that I'm against consumerism (though
I'm hardly for it), or that I think I'm above spending my time going from
store to store. Actually, bookstores and record shops hold a very strong attraction
for me, and even going down the aisles in supermarkets can be very enjoyable.
Shopping for clothes, however, just isn't for me, and I suppose that that's basically
because, perhaps in a manner similar to Kafka's Hunger Artist, I can't find what
I like. That means that I tend to wear what I already have until it's
very worn out, postponing the unavoidable visit to the clothes stores (always
in the plural since, after all, I'm not going to find what I want...) until there's
really no other choice. Some of my clothes are compromises with what's available,
and as such shouldn't be hard to part with. But time and continual wear seem to
endear even the not very enthusiastically bought (or received) shirt to my heart.
When it comes time to part with what has become rags, it's easier to leave it
in the closet, taking up too much space, than it is to actually throw out.
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