If clothes could talk

My wardrobe is my sanctuary. The thoughts I have running through my head, I sometimes let them run free in my wardrobe ~ as in, I talk to myself out loud because I discovered it’s the only way to make these random thoughts go away. I call them “random”, but they are not. They are the kind of thoughts that put us down before we set a foot outside to let someone else do that. So I stand there, deciding what to wear for the day, when these thoughts pop up. And then I choose perhaps a blazer, because it’s my armor, and start dressing to give myself the power back. I’ve learned that nobody talks to us the way we talk to ourselves, whether it’s super good, to make ourselves feel better about a situation, or wether it’s not so good at all, and we spiral in negativity for whatever biological reason there might be behind all this. And while it took me more than a decade to actually name it, clothes have power. We stand a little straighter, we trust ourselves more, and we start doubting our doubts. Would a strong person in a great outfit let themselves be tackled by negativity? No. We acknowledge the thoughts, and then off they go - out the window, only to return some other day, or maybe even later that day. But for the moment, I thank my clothes and the power of my blazers, I smile and sometimes even add a bold red on my lips, and I move on with my day.

So if my clothes could talk, they’ll probably say things like “it’s all in your head” and “it’s not that bad, go for a walk and change your perspective”. Except for when it is bad, and then they will say “I am here for you, I’ve got your back”. Which is true. When dealing with grief, I turned to my clothes to make myself feel a bit better. I forced myself to get properly dressed when I didn’t want to get out of bed, I pushed myself to apply for jobs I was sure I wouldn’t get for various reasons but which I did end up getting, and so on. Time and time again my wardrobe has been the steadiest point in a world in which I changed countries seven times. As time went by I learned that home is not always a place. Home is a person, home is a feeling, home is what we make of it. And my wardrobe has witnessed all versions of me, and I let go of things that no longer served me by thanking and saying good bye to an item that reminded me of that time. What is left, my clothes would tell you if they could talk, are trusted items that have had my back - like true friends.

And when I keep adding items to my wardrobe, I try not to be too harsh on myself or on the item itself. Yes, not everything belongs here, but I already know that. I know that what comes in is a token of joy, because I have stopped long ago to shop when my emotions are not positive. Those items, for me, were the ones that ended up somewhere else because when I do look at my clothes I don’t want to be reminded “ah, yes, that purple top I bought when I had an argument with xyz.” No. What comes in is an item that sparks not only joy, but brings back moments of positivity when I reach for it. As crazy as all this might seem, it is tried and tested. Every sartorial element we choose for the day needs to have a positive connotation. Otherwise, thanks, but no thanks. In an unpredictable and somewhat scary world, I decided to focus on what I can control - my moods, and my wardrobe choices, and one influences the other.