I don't know why, but I've never been a big shopper. Most of my female friends and many of my male friends live in a merry, care-free world in which they can go into their respective fashion retailers of choice. They can peruse the selection of corduroy cargo pants until they are blue in their respective faces without the fear of nervous breakdowns.
I suppose saying that, "I'm not a big shopper," is an understatement. I have an inexplicable phobia of shopping. This is unfortunate because the day came, as it frequently does in the average person's lifetime, in which I decided that I hated everything in my wardrobe. This might have to do with the fact that I have not bought more than one piece of clothing at a time since the 10th grade.
A few days after the bitter realization that all my clothes looked as if they jumped from the pages of my high-school yearbook and onto my hangers, I ventured to the bustling metropolis of Columbus, Ohio. I decided that, while there, I would go to a fine shopping facility to purchase some hip, sophisticated duds. I hoped that the nature of the clothing would somehow rub off on my personality.
I called my friend Tom, whom I would be visiting, and I asked if he would mind spending an entire day at the mall so that I would no longer be an unfashionable nerd. He agreed, but I did not figure out until later that he had just purchased a new PDA. He can entertain himself for countless hours by making to-do lists, playing "Hot Death Uno" and walking around to see where the wireless connection works.
We arrived at City Center Mall in downtown Columbus on a Sunday afternoon. Nothing was going to keep me from accomplishing my goal of becoming -- somehow -- stylish.
Nothing -- except, of course -- the fashion industry's inability to manufacture stylish clothing.
Girls, I double-dog dare you to go to a store and try to find a normal sweater. Go ahead. You will not find one. All of today's sweaters are riddled with poofy necks, zippers, giant buttons, hoods, strings, those little wooden knobs that have some pretense of holding a sweater closed in the front, and necklines that look as if they were cut by an art class full of preschoolers who were only allowed to operate their scissors with their toes.
Needless to say, I came away from my weekend (which I hoped would make me hip to the times) with a genuine, divine hatred for the fashion industry.
I also got a men's T-shirt that was on clearance at Old Navy.
Not long ago, the trend for clothing was to be covered in ruffles. That was another fad that I detested. If humans were meant to wear ruffles, we would also roll around in sour cream and onion powder and be sold in family-size bags at Marsh.
So I ask you, what is this world coming to?
Write to Aleshia at aahaselden@bsu.edu
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