I’m about to get personal here. Time for fashion and mental health.
I have been inexplicably mopey for a few days. Completely indecisive. Like one day, I couldn’t choose which shirt I wanted to wear, so I wore all of them, layered on top of each other. My roomie told me I looked like a second-grader. I couldn’t decide whether that was a compliment.
Then on my way to work, I felt thirsty but couldn’t decide what I wanted. So I stopped at the gas station and bought a coffee, Diet Coke, water and cranberry juice. I immediately spilled the coffee on my shirt. Luckily, I had three others underneath.
My affliction was getting out of control; it was time to make an appointment with Dr. Urban Outfitters.
Yes, it’s dangerous, expensive and probably masking a serious iron deficiency or something, but I stand behind shopping therapy. I’m proof it works. Because as I walked out of the store with a bulging bag of stripes and oversized gold hoops, I felt a wave of peace and control. Maybe I can’t control the Cingular demons who sporadically drop my most crucial phone calls or my neighbor’s dog that begins his bark-a-thon at 5 a.m. every day, but I can control the size of the hoops dangling off my earlobes.
Flipping through the racks gets your hands off the office keyboard and surrounds them with comforting cottons and satins.
A new shirt temporarily makes you feel good about yourself.
And shopping is a reminder that no matter how twisted and complex life becomes, you can always fall back on That Which Is Shallow But Simple And Pretty.
Photo by Flickr user David Blackwell.
I have been inexplicably mopey for a few days. Completely indecisive. Like one day, I couldn’t choose which shirt I wanted to wear, so I wore all of them, layered on top of each other. My roomie told me I looked like a second-grader. I couldn’t decide whether that was a compliment.
Then on my way to work, I felt thirsty but couldn’t decide what I wanted. So I stopped at the gas station and bought a coffee, Diet Coke, water and cranberry juice. I immediately spilled the coffee on my shirt. Luckily, I had three others underneath.
My affliction was getting out of control; it was time to make an appointment with Dr. Urban Outfitters.
Yes, it’s dangerous, expensive and probably masking a serious iron deficiency or something, but I stand behind shopping therapy. I’m proof it works. Because as I walked out of the store with a bulging bag of stripes and oversized gold hoops, I felt a wave of peace and control. Maybe I can’t control the Cingular demons who sporadically drop my most crucial phone calls or my neighbor’s dog that begins his bark-a-thon at 5 a.m. every day, but I can control the size of the hoops dangling off my earlobes.
Flipping through the racks gets your hands off the office keyboard and surrounds them with comforting cottons and satins.
A new shirt temporarily makes you feel good about yourself.
And shopping is a reminder that no matter how twisted and complex life becomes, you can always fall back on That Which Is Shallow But Simple And Pretty.
Photo by Flickr user David Blackwell.
