Two left shoes.

Finding something I want to buy is perceived as a shock every time. I'm never the person who will say things like "I saw this dress that was amazing. It's $460 but I'm going to buy it, cause the cut is great and flattering and yada yada". You'll probs catch me saying "yada yada" but that's about it. I don't know why, I don't know why. Aren't girls supposed to be born with this innate desire to spend money on renewing their physical selves? I'm not good at playing this game at all, I just make do (like a boy). At times I think "aye that's nice. I wouldn't mind owning it." but I remain forever rational when faced with an item and a capable wallet. The "I can get away with not buying this" thought always shoots through me like a dreadful rainbow, and I'm reminded. I don't spend unneccesary money on things like clothes, accessories and shoes. Perhaps my mother's educating me has transformed my brain in judging everything by its value. And being 'value-for-money' is not enough. You have to be able to get a block of gold for 20 cents before "it was cheap" is a valid reason to buy something. But ever since my little mental breakdown (this basically arose from trying to clean my room), I chucked everything away. & I do not exaggarate that I have less than 20 wearable items left in my wardobe. Every time I open it up, there are no more surprises of old, forgotten pieces. In fact, there's nothing. It's oddly alarming, and it's taken a while to hit me. But when I wander about my room and look at the hollowness of my wardobe, I feel like it's threatening me to stray the streets as a sad, nude girl. And it's terrible, y'know? Because I know I've always been terrible at creating passable first impressions, and I'm sure not being able to dress myself will help that problem in any way. When I was fob I felt like I was framed within a multi-layered, pink-bows-and-cutesy-shit-filled, fake-branded fence that guided me with what to wear. Plus going to China every year to hoard made it even easier. But now. I don't like anything. Actually, I know what I like but these things don't go together and don't come across often. To my infinite sadness, my galaxy leggings, giraffe shirt or apple print dress do not go well with..(m)any items. I mean if I had my way, I'd wear them all together but that's not socially acceptable and even to me, that doesn't look good. & to make those items look actually cool, I'd have to try hard and find things of the appropriate colour, length, cut, texture..and I wouldn't do that. We should just all get uniforms, we're all the same anyway.

Fashion is really not that big a deal. There, I said it. I keep coming across fashion bloggers and enthusiasts ranting about the importance of fashion, and how pretty clothes = acquiring meaning of life, and how people who don't care about dressing or dress like everyone else, should just go play the hanging game. And to that, I say screw your face! Yeah, it is nice to look nice, and it is nice to have your physical self be a representation of what you aspire to be, but it's hardly ever linear in this way. So while everyone's hyping up fashion as an art form, us commoners can just chill in our abercrombie hoodies and forget about that, or at least I will. Yeah, I not-so-secretly wish I had the willpower and coordination to colour my body in pretty, pretty materials, but in the end it's just looking pretty. I don't really have a point except that I don't own any clothes, and it's weird how that's affecting me.

TATA.