I've heard of couples who say they found romance after years of platonic friendship - suddenly something just "clicked" - but to be honest, I've never subscribed to the whole friends-cum-lovers relationship progression. For me, it's either there in the first 10 minutes (or sooner) or it isn't.
And by "it's" I mean that palpable, mutual lightning attraction of the mind, body, and sense of humor -- the kind of connection perfectly captured between Jennifer Lopez and George Clooney in "Out of Sight" and even though they didn't give into it on-screen, Scarlett and Bill in "Lost in Translation."
For love, I require instant, comprehensive, make-me-laugh-out-loud, but for clothing, I tend to be more lenient, more patient. By no means is patience tantamount to settling, it's more like a willingness to wait and see if one day I'll see it in a new light when it's paired with a great metallic jacket or lampshade skirt.
To facilitate these revelations, my closet is organized by color. Within each of the rainbow-order sections, there are three sub-sections: one for work, one for play, and one for evening.
For the most part, the lines between work and play, play and evening, and work and evening are immutable. Because I love my gold cocktail dress in a different way than I love my gray heather dress slacks in a different way than I love my two cropped, mod bell-coats, I tend not to co-mingle them.
On a morning like this morning, however, when I'm standing before my closet completely incapable of crafting an outfit from among the many pieces in my professional wardrobe that both fit my mood (today it's Rachel-Bilson-goes-to-work) and whatever complex I might have (today it's I-should've-done-more-situps-last-night), my eye starts to wander to the forbidden sections.
It's in these rare moments of open-mindedness I find myself falling in love with an outfit made up of pieces from my professional section (black matte jersey skirt, fitted sleeveless black fringe-collared top and black suede peeptoes), my play section (red Peter Pan collared cropped jacket and patterned opaque tights) and even a touch from my evening section (drop opal earrings). In permutations of two or even three, the resultant chemistry measures about as highly on my lust scale as that smug lobbyist who followed me into the elevator off the street last August. Taken in totality, however, and this six-piece ensemble elevates to the you-know-who-you-are level.
And by "it's" I mean that palpable, mutual lightning attraction of the mind, body, and sense of humor -- the kind of connection perfectly captured between Jennifer Lopez and George Clooney in "Out of Sight" and even though they didn't give into it on-screen, Scarlett and Bill in "Lost in Translation."
For love, I require instant, comprehensive, make-me-laugh-out-loud, but for clothing, I tend to be more lenient, more patient. By no means is patience tantamount to settling, it's more like a willingness to wait and see if one day I'll see it in a new light when it's paired with a great metallic jacket or lampshade skirt.
To facilitate these revelations, my closet is organized by color. Within each of the rainbow-order sections, there are three sub-sections: one for work, one for play, and one for evening.
For the most part, the lines between work and play, play and evening, and work and evening are immutable. Because I love my gold cocktail dress in a different way than I love my gray heather dress slacks in a different way than I love my two cropped, mod bell-coats, I tend not to co-mingle them.
On a morning like this morning, however, when I'm standing before my closet completely incapable of crafting an outfit from among the many pieces in my professional wardrobe that both fit my mood (today it's Rachel-Bilson-goes-to-work) and whatever complex I might have (today it's I-should've-done-more-situps-last-night), my eye starts to wander to the forbidden sections.
It's in these rare moments of open-mindedness I find myself falling in love with an outfit made up of pieces from my professional section (black matte jersey skirt, fitted sleeveless black fringe-collared top and black suede peeptoes), my play section (red Peter Pan collared cropped jacket and patterned opaque tights) and even a touch from my evening section (drop opal earrings). In permutations of two or even three, the resultant chemistry measures about as highly on my lust scale as that smug lobbyist who followed me into the elevator off the street last August. Taken in totality, however, and this six-piece ensemble elevates to the you-know-who-you-are level.
Even though my mind is made up when it comes to my love life - lightning or nothing - at least I still show signs of tolerant promise in my relationship with clothing.
3 comments:
Yes! If you find it, hold onto it as tightly as you can! That goes for the guy and the dress!
Definitely right about the dress.
Not so sure about the guy...holding on isn't always the most productive course of action, I'm finding.
everything in life is about doing what's productive EXCEPT when it comes to love. that's the one place you should be selfish and follow your heart. do what makes you happy, not what you think is most practical or most sensible.
wasn't this post about clothes? how did I get here?
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