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And This is Why....
Tuesday, June 3rd, 2008 12:22 pmI got an insight into why I have such a hard time buying clothes for myself. As in, I should not be allowed to buy clothes for myself. Because, really, y'all, I make the most inappropriate choices for myself and it isn't because I have no fashion savvy... it's because I get frustrated, or anxious, and just want to get it over with.
The clothes I buy for the kids and for THO are great. It's just me that I suck at buying for.
Well, I was folding clothes, and found this blouse that my mom had made for me back when I was... 23, I think, and I was looking at it, thinking how it would look terrible on me now (can't wear that type of boatneck anymore) but admiring what a good job she did on it and was struck by memories. Standing on the kitchen table wearing pieces of fabric that crackled because the paper pattern was still stuck to it, yelping because Mom stuck a pin in my waist accidently as she fit it to me, basically doing a custom-tailoring job, and whining, "Can I put my arms down now?" because I was tired after standing with my arms straight out for ten minutes.
My mom made all our clothes. Well, except for underwear, socks, and jeans. The only store-bought clothes we had were gifts from relatives. Even after my sisters got jobs and could afford to buy their own clothes, they still would bring pictures of dresses or shirts to Mom and ask her to make whatever it was for them.
See, this is why I am bad at buying clothes for myself. My mom would take us to a department store, and in the 60's and 70's, all department stores had fabric departments. So Mom would take me into the girls' department and start picking out clothes for me to try on. And I would get so excited! I'd think, "Finally, I'm actually going to get something store-bought!"
Store-bought was a very big thing for us.
Mom would scrutinize how I looked, and would make notes in this little notebook she carried in her purse. Then, she'd take all the clothes back and hang them back on the racks, then take me to the fabric department and sit down to look at patterns in the big books. McCall's, Simplicity, Sweets, etc. While I sat there pouting and feeling deceived. She'd find the patterns she wanted, referring to her notes, would go get them and study the suggested fabrics (then make up her own mind what would work) and would take me through the stands of fabric, looking for colors and patterns I liked. At this point, I'd start getting a little more enthusiastic about it, and would realize that I could have any color I liked of the dress or shorts or shirts I liked. Then she'd go home and make it, and what she made always fit me better than what we tried on in the store.
This happened every time until I figured out that I was not going to get any of what we tried on. So, I learned to try on things without getting any more committed to it than it took to just be interested in how it looked and how it fit. And taking after my mother, I would always think of how it would look better in another fabric or another color, which was never on the racks.
Mom stopped sewing all my clothes when I was about twelve, when she went back to work. All of a sudden, I had to get used to wearing clothes that fit... but not very well. I was skinny with a round bottom, a high waist, and deceptively long legs for my short height. So... pants never fit properly. Petite pants were always too short, because for some reason, the makers of petite clothing think petite women have short legs. I got used to wearing dresses and pants a little bit too long because of that. Because petite dresses are... too short, too. Long legs, remember?
Anyhow, I realized that most of my problems buying clothes for myself stem from those days of knowing that I was not going to get what I was trying on, so why get excited about it? This requires a major readjustment to my way of thinking. Which ain't gonna be easy, folks.
Mom keeps saying, "Just make your own clothes. I did!"
Um... there are still days when I don't get to brush my hair. When precisely am I supposed to sew?
Mom says, "Well, I did my sewing at night while y'all were asleep."
O_o!
Sorry. Auntie values her sleep. Auntie needs her sleep. I spent Miss Priss' first four years being extremely sleep deprived so... I am very jealous of my time asleep. This is part of where the "Do not disturb Bear, do not provoke the Bear, do not take chocolate away from the Bear" saying of the Husbandly One's came from.
*eyes her closet speculatively*
The clothes I buy for the kids and for THO are great. It's just me that I suck at buying for.
Well, I was folding clothes, and found this blouse that my mom had made for me back when I was... 23, I think, and I was looking at it, thinking how it would look terrible on me now (can't wear that type of boatneck anymore) but admiring what a good job she did on it and was struck by memories. Standing on the kitchen table wearing pieces of fabric that crackled because the paper pattern was still stuck to it, yelping because Mom stuck a pin in my waist accidently as she fit it to me, basically doing a custom-tailoring job, and whining, "Can I put my arms down now?" because I was tired after standing with my arms straight out for ten minutes.
My mom made all our clothes. Well, except for underwear, socks, and jeans. The only store-bought clothes we had were gifts from relatives. Even after my sisters got jobs and could afford to buy their own clothes, they still would bring pictures of dresses or shirts to Mom and ask her to make whatever it was for them.
See, this is why I am bad at buying clothes for myself. My mom would take us to a department store, and in the 60's and 70's, all department stores had fabric departments. So Mom would take me into the girls' department and start picking out clothes for me to try on. And I would get so excited! I'd think, "Finally, I'm actually going to get something store-bought!"
Store-bought was a very big thing for us.
Mom would scrutinize how I looked, and would make notes in this little notebook she carried in her purse. Then, she'd take all the clothes back and hang them back on the racks, then take me to the fabric department and sit down to look at patterns in the big books. McCall's, Simplicity, Sweets, etc. While I sat there pouting and feeling deceived. She'd find the patterns she wanted, referring to her notes, would go get them and study the suggested fabrics (then make up her own mind what would work) and would take me through the stands of fabric, looking for colors and patterns I liked. At this point, I'd start getting a little more enthusiastic about it, and would realize that I could have any color I liked of the dress or shorts or shirts I liked. Then she'd go home and make it, and what she made always fit me better than what we tried on in the store.
This happened every time until I figured out that I was not going to get any of what we tried on. So, I learned to try on things without getting any more committed to it than it took to just be interested in how it looked and how it fit. And taking after my mother, I would always think of how it would look better in another fabric or another color, which was never on the racks.
Mom stopped sewing all my clothes when I was about twelve, when she went back to work. All of a sudden, I had to get used to wearing clothes that fit... but not very well. I was skinny with a round bottom, a high waist, and deceptively long legs for my short height. So... pants never fit properly. Petite pants were always too short, because for some reason, the makers of petite clothing think petite women have short legs. I got used to wearing dresses and pants a little bit too long because of that. Because petite dresses are... too short, too. Long legs, remember?
Anyhow, I realized that most of my problems buying clothes for myself stem from those days of knowing that I was not going to get what I was trying on, so why get excited about it? This requires a major readjustment to my way of thinking. Which ain't gonna be easy, folks.
Mom keeps saying, "Just make your own clothes. I did!"
Um... there are still days when I don't get to brush my hair. When precisely am I supposed to sew?
Mom says, "Well, I did my sewing at night while y'all were asleep."
O_o!
Sorry. Auntie values her sleep. Auntie needs her sleep. I spent Miss Priss' first four years being extremely sleep deprived so... I am very jealous of my time asleep. This is part of where the "Do not disturb Bear, do not provoke the Bear, do not take chocolate away from the Bear" saying of the Husbandly One's came from.
*eyes her closet speculatively*
