There must be some kind of overseas fashion connoisseur movement that I’m oblivious to.
You know what I find really interesting and consistent and wacky among mostly teenage girls and young women? How the aforementioned cliques, when they go on a vacation or journey* of some sort, go absolutely HAM shopping for all these new outfits. They’ll drop loads of dough on this shit that they won’t wear again, like who some people spend big on their wedding gowns or perishable goods (both practices which I deem completely idiotic thank you very much.) Like, really? Silkworms spent the entire duration of their lives weaving you this paisley high-waisted romper in this spring’s hit color (orchid, you ignorant plebeian!) and you whip it out to wear to a dinner? ONCE? You have got to be some sick jokester.
You know what I mean though, buying stuff they don’t normally wear at all for their, hm, one week trip to Barcelona. It’s not even gear, or some really hip hiking backpack, or freeze-dried astronaut ice cream sandwich snacks (“they travel so well!”) or the usual tourist paraphernalia or anything that will necessarily assist them on their journey*, it’s just clothing and shoes because apparently making great first visual impressions on foreigners you probably won’t ever see again is critical. God forbid you’re dressed like a genuine tourist in sweatpants and pure-white geeky-as-heck New Balances, and folks catch a glimpse of what you truly are- a fanny-pack-wielding, photo-snapping, cheap-food-eating wanderer who wants so desperately to impress others.
It seems dumb for me to even notice this element of minutia, but it’s finals week and I can’t really bring myself to do any of my many outstanding assignments. I’ve barely got my head above water as it is, but I made dinner and did laundry tonight, so what more do you want from me? I have resorted to wholeheartedly stalking the historical depths of peoples’ Facebook profiles, and that’s what got me aboard this thought train. (Traveling pun intended completely.)
That’s the thing about technology and the modern age I hate so much-one click just kinda leads to another, ya know? Pretty soon you’re checking out your mother’s brother’s ex-wife’s baby pictures and you don’t even think it’s abnormal because this is 2014, and the only thing we’re not allowed to know about our peers or distant relatives is their social security digits. Sometimes.
So anyway, I was Facebook stalking this chick who recently went on a trip, and she looked so different to me in the pictures. I was kinda like, uhmmmm gurlrrlllllrlllllllllllll. You never look like that in class, or at events, or at parties, or in my mind, or at home, or on the street, or in our city.. but abroad, she completely and spontaneously metamorphosed into this bohemian princess type thing with a totally bangin’ wardrobe I probably won’t get to see again til she gets on a plane to New Zealand or something. Definitely nothing local, that’s not worth dressing up for.
Maybe she didn’t look any different and I just got to see her from some weird new angle that blew out the photo oddly or something, but that’s not even possible ergo I don’t know why I suggested it, so I can’t give her the benefit of the doubt. Can you still read this with the line crossing it all out? Darn.
Maybe I’m reading too far into this, but you’re still reading my writing, and that’s a good sign. I’ll continue. You’re welcome.
It just seems like young/old/all people are overly concerned with the fantasy that can be found in places other than their own city. Places other than their own head. The lives of others. The future that’s presently only in the realm of imagination.
That’s fine, but your whole life takes place in your city, and in your head, and it always will. When you fixate on other places to try and escape (be they different in geography or time) you are living in a state other than the present. You’re attributing wondrous characteristics to these foreign lands, people, things, and thoughts that give them mental superiority and validity, in comparison to the blessings you have going on in your life right this instant. And by “you” I mean “me,” because I am the number one offender on this count, and I know it.
What is it that’s so not okay about our everyday selves, that we have to conceal it from others we don’t even know? And if it’s not about concealing something, it’s about impressing someone- so why then do we strive to impress the very same people, ones we don’t know from Adam?
What is wrong with trying to live for today, right now, the best you can, and treating the present with every bit as much care and planning as you treat your trip to Buenos Aires in four weeks? I get it that Trader Joe’s Chelsea isn’t exactly glamour central, but why must we look so different there than you do during extraneous travel circumstances? Is there some written rule inscribed on the inside of our eyelids that I somehow missed? Each day is special, and we’re not even guaranteed tomorrow.
There is nothing more special about your trip to Berlin than your trip to the bathroom in your hometown. I repeat, there is nothing more special about your trip to Berlin than your trip to the bathroom in your hometown. Each breath you take is a gift, so why aren’t you wearing that silk vacation romper to the park on Sunday instead of waiting til next August at the Jersey Shore? Don’t save your special things for a special day. Soon enough that special day will be tomorrow, and you’ll forget what you had saved up all this while, and before you know it, the special day will be long over. It’ll blend into the old memories you have of every other ordinary day gone by. The sun rises and sets on every day, and they’re all special. Live that way.
*Let’s just take a moment to note how I used the word “journey.” It sounds so heroic, like going to Barcelona to shop and get wasted with Eurotrash guys is something worthy of its own Star Wars-esque saga and a major motion picture trilogy.
Eh who knows, if you do it right, perhaps it could be. I’ve got an open mind and it’s late, so anything goes.