As a scholar and baron's mind is wont to do, mine turned this morning to the pressing subject of couture. In particular, mine. In particular, what I was wearing at the very moment I initiated these very thoughts, on my way to work at 8:27 a.m. Here is a catalogue of my habiliments then - and now - with an account of said habiliments' points of origin. To wit:
1. One pair knickers, inherited from Cistern Harlot, who kindly got herself up the duff a couple of years ago, and bequeathed me almost her entire wardrobe
2. One bosom wrangling apparatus, inherited from Cistern Harlot (see above)
3. One t-shirt (see above)
4. One scarf, knat by Cistern Harlot (my acquisition of which probably unrelated to Cistern's pregnancy)
5. One pair socks, remnants of primary school winter uniform, not worn by me in its entirety since 1990
6. One crocheted vest-cardigan hybrid affair, inherited from ex-housemate upon her migration to Germany
7. One perfectly servicable brown velvet jacket, former property of Mrs Dog, whose dog I used to walk and who has a curiously off-handed way with velvet jackets
8. One pair trousers, purchased with Big Bad Department Store gift card
9. One pair gloves, gift of ex-paramour
10. One watch, gift of Brother Harlot, last Christmas
11. Spectacles, promoting superior vision since 2006
12. Very Spendy Sensible Shoes, made entirely out of dead vegans, and procured from Vegan Wares while my inner treasurer was on long-service leave
13. One haircut, self-administered with the kitchen scissors on Sunday afternoon
14. A hat
What can we conclude from all this? Here is what we can conclude, in order of height:
1. The subject was fully clothed at the time in question
2. The subject has cultivated friends and relations relatively unattached to their own clothes
3. The subject's friends and relations are probably naked right now
4. The subject is a veritable second-hand clothing vortex, and should be stopped before she assumes a fifth dimension
That is all. I have to eat dinner now.
9 comments:
Your wardrobe sounds terrifyingly like mine, only I like to inherit men's clothes as well and settle for my sisters' shoes rather than their "bosom wranglers". I do have a bit of a problem at the moment, as there was a mighty windfall when one sister moved overseas, but I can't seem to reconcile myself to her fondness for red shoes and things that are pink. The other sister perplexes me in her turn with the hues of inherited make up.
Yes, but on top of our nakedness, we are often clothed. Next time* I go to a nudist colony, I like to take the pomp and ceremony out of the affair by imagining what they'd all look like clothed.
Why dwell on the superficial depths, when we can deeply contemplate the surfaces? There's a reason mathematicians spend their lives studying superficies.
*Coincidentally, this will also be the first time.
I went to a nudist colony a couple of times as a child (don't tell my mother I told you that!). It was one of the many instances in my childhood when I got lost and part of the reason why I ended up on a "kiddie lead". In any case, clothes are often more suggestive and you are certainly right about the deep study of surfaces.
A most chatechistic inventory, not unlike the penultimate chapter of Ulysses. Beats the fashion pages I flipped through at the hairdresser's today gloved hands down. Mind you, there was an insouciantly glamorous wearer of a women's tuxedo, the evening jacket known as Le Smoking.
Well, thats uncanny. I was just about to go the ever-popular "what are you wearing?" query from strange men.
Me - Fluevog's shoes. Otherwise, this season's statements in shabby chic aca.
Eyrie, send anything pink my way. I can use it to decorate my toilet.
Tim, I know that you'll already know this Wildeanism, but I'll quote it for my own amusement anyway, "It is only the shallow people who do not judge by appearances". Hm.
Mitz, I used to have a pair of smoking pyjamas - purple rayon with paisleys - that I wore to several a third year English class (this is back when I was young and merry). I'm sure J.J. would've approved.
Lefty, Fluevogs are so fancy I hadn't even heard of them. Hope you're not doing anything unkind to your toes.
You wear your cistern's knickers? I must say, I have never sported the home of another's genitals upon my person. Out of respect for the panties. For me, undies are a one-genital item. Unigeniticular.
Onederpants?
What's wrong with genitals, anyway? They're just 'genials' with an added t.
Multigenitacular is spectacular!
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