coming to terms with my clothing and taylor swift

I go through my clothes and fold them in neat little piles of donation, selling, trash and keepers.  it's a tedious experience, trying to realize that letting go of clothing is like saying goodbye to certain times of my life.

suddenly this path to minimalism has made me realize how many demons I have yet to face.  

I no longer need short skirts and multi-colored tights from American Apparel.  I don't need a revealing dress from Urban Outfitters.  those are remnants from a different chapter of my life.  a chapter that I'm ready to let go of. 

honestly I didn't expect to find this much symbolism in cleaning out my closet. but what I have found has been a ton of old memories and bad times that I need to let go of.  it's not me anymore. hell, I don't think it was really me to begin with. just some terrible facade to cover the idea of fading out of relevancy in your mid-20s.  what amazing thoughts and feelings a day in your closet can bring up.

goodbye hipsterdom.

I look at the vibrant colors and realized how obsessed I was with my appearance. everything was carefully crafted and picked out to accentuate my hipster lifestyle.  and honestly it makes me sad. it makes me sad because not only is that part of my life over, but because I thought that appearance was one of the most important things. I think of all the people I've brushed off because of superficialities during that time and wonder how many good people I ignored. 

I used to make fun of people and talk about their shitty taste in film and music.  and I wore clothes that helped elevate that status, I planned parties that were built around playlists of the obscure bands I was into.  I made sure to drink expensive beer or only Pabst Blue Ribbon, and balked at those who drank anything else.  

and it's sad about how insecure I was about my own identity.  how overpowering I was to everyone else's own decisions.  I interjected and made fun of those I deemed inferior. and it's because I really had no sense of self. I just want to say I'm sorry.  I'm sorry for anyone who experienced me during my peak of that phase.

I pack my clothes into large bins and ready them for a trip to downtown's Rag-o-Rama. a place for my hipster clothes to to die.  a place for my past persona to finally be laid to rest. 

I purchased Taylor Swift's new album 1989 and spin the record and smile. not only because it's a fucking fantastic album, but because I actually am allowing myself to enjoy it.  her music doesn't fit into my past persona, and she was easily dismissed because how popular she was.  I listen to Blank Space and think about how I loathed her and Lady Gaga.

just because I didn't want to be like everyone else.  I was convinced I had to be different to make myself stand out.  forever fearing to fall in with what I deemed "cookie cutter."

why was I so afraid of that? because I wanted to be seen differently.  I didn't want to be associated with the mundane. unfortunately I didn't see how I had become a typical hipster. flowing into the endless stereotype of liking something before everyone else and always ready to impart my "large amount of knowledge of all things obscure" to anyone and everyone.

I was a miserable little cuss.  wrapped up in my own self image. making sure my eye makeup was the opposite color of the color wheel to my tops. and I'm sad to say my record collection started out that way. 

a giant glorified collection of music.  music that if you didn't listen to you were a horribly boring person. music that I proudly put on display.  I'm glad to say that it has evolved from that. it's turned into something more romantic than anything.  

music and clothing has changed for me. clothes are a necessary evil.  one that I don't want to have to worry about anymore. I'm slowly weeding out my closet. I'm getting rid of all the shit isn't necessary.  I don't want to use clothing to identify myself anymore. 

now. in not going to go extreme like The Guilty Remnant from The Leftovers, but I am sick of using my wardrobe as a way to communicate who I am. sure I still have my American Apparel scarves and dresses, but they are there to serve a purpose.  not to show why I am a deserving person.  

music and record collecting moved into a realm of pure bliss.  when asked to create a "place of relaxation" in therapy I automatically drew the spot in front of my collection. it's the family's place. a place where I can run my fingers across the spine of a record and meditate.  it's comfy and inviting. and I love the smell of old records more than anything. 

I'm free to pull out my Paula Abdul records and spin them without judgement now (because Opposites Attract is a fucking phenomenal song).  and I have removed the music snobbery that once meant I would never own a Taylor Swift album. she'll move to my "S" area.  to sit comfortably next to The Smiths. 

my place of zen.

Shake It Off comes on and I see Rae dance across the room.  I put on my chevron house shoes and lounge around in my old pair of jean leggings i found in the closet.  how much life did I miss when I was worried about what people thought of me?

I'll never know if i really did miss out on anything.  there is no time to dwell on that.  I have just gotta make a brighter future, teach my daughter to do what she wants to do.

"I'll never miss a beat, I'm lightning on my feet and that's what they don't see.. mhm. that's what they don't see.. mhm.. I'm dancing on my own, I make the moves up as i go."