Tuesday, August 14, 2007

"Problems" of an affluent Westerner

I hate all my shirts. Or rather, I love most of my shirts, but I am bored with them. I looked in my closet a few days ago and found absolutely nothing I wanted to wear. The ones I like take too much ironing. The ones that don't require a lot of ironing are boring. So, I have begun systematically replacing my wardrobe. First I went to the Gap. Two new shirts in, three old shirts out. Tonight it was Ross. In with two more new, out with two more old.

I also sorted all my shirts by color in the closet. Yeah, I know, but having not done so for several years, it was a revelation. I have two nearly identical purple and white striped button-downs. One is Brooks Brothers and has a front pocket. The other is Polo Ralph Lauren and doesn't. The Polo is more of an aubergine while the Brooks is a lighter purple. But they are both the same weight of Oxford cloth. If I wore them on consecutive days, a non-metrosexual straight guy would think I wore the same shirt twice. Why do I need two such similar shirts?

Likewise, I have two solid-color yellow shirts. Okay, one is a button-down Oxford in a poly/cotton blend and the other is a spread collar broadcloth in 100% cotton. But honestly, how much call is there for a yellow shirt in one's wardrobe? (And I'm not talking about the other shirts that have some yellow in them.) Four solid white shirts in different styles is understandable; white is very versatile in an office environment. But gradations of yellow?

I also have three different shades of solid red. I actually like all of those and they are in pretty frequent rotation, but c'mon...

What I don't have (surprising, given my penchant for browns) is anything in a solid beige.

So, this weekend we are heading down to the Bay Area for our friends' wedding. That means Macy's. I am excited by the possibilities. But, despite the fact that St. Vincent de Paul is going to get some really nice hand-me-downs, I am feeling very superficial and vain and, well, guilty to be so obsessed with replacement of perfectly serviceable attire in pursuit of some new-clothes "high." I guess it's fools like me that keep capitalism working. Wait, that's not necessarily a comforting thought, either...


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