First, a confession: I am starting on day three. I somehow became terribly confused about dates and started on the 15th. I will take it six weeks from here.
A second confession: this blog might get floofy. Not might. Will. Beware the floof.
I have chosen five of my six: black pants, jeans, black angora long sleeve top, charcoal t-shirt, black hoodie. Not terribly exciting choices, however they will allow me to cover work, socialising, and home. I will post pictures soon!
To give you some context for the “floof”, this is my history of involvement in “sixing”. I have always loved uniforms. I attended a Catholic school, and I just loved wearing the same thing every day. It fitted well, it was warm, and while I was not part of the group in many ways, looking the same secured me a place. During my grungy adolescence, I had two uniforms: my school uniform and my home uniform. For far too many years my ‘home uniform’ consisted of the same two flannel shirts. I wore them threadbare. Then there was the year I spent in jeans and oversize, white, mens shirts. The summer I spent rotating between one t-shirt and a pair of shorts, and a dress with leggings. The winter I spent in a black hoodie and the same two pairs of jeans and two black tops. The month I …. I have always enjoyed having a personal uniform. If I feel that I look acceptable for the situation, I don’t think that it should matter if I wear the same thing daily, as long as it is clean. Yet every so often, once every few years, I get caught by the desire to be an “adult”. I brush my hair lots. I put on make-up. I even learned how to apply blusher last year, from a woman with a painted face and two brushes and three shades to contour and highlight. This false adulthood will last for some months, until I rebel in a fit of sneakers and jeans.
The first round of “sixing” I participated in was life-changing. Such a simple thing to do, with such a huge personal impact. I read “Ishmael” at the same time. I prayed lots. I learned that no-one cares what I wear. I accepted that underneath it all, I am not so bothered either. I culled my wardrobe down to 50 odd items, including jackets, nightwear, swimwear, and still felt this was far too much. It was brilliant. And then…and then…well, I learned to apply blusher last year.
This round of ‘sixing’ has two aims: support the cause, and re-focus on my own. I know where my values lie, but I do I live by them? What position has appearance taken in my life? If not a uniform, how do I use clothes to secure myself ‘place’? What impact do my clothing choices have on others? Can my appearance ever say nothing about me?
Looking forward to seeking the answers 🙂