In my closet I keep my costumes. That’s how I think of the majority of my clothes even though many are not unusual or even theatrical; some are quite ordinary. The ordinary ones are for the days when I choose to feel or be ordinary, usually in an attempt to belong. Although I suppose there’s something in choosing to be ordinary instead of just being that way that hints of the extraordinary.
I wonder if the rest of the world views their wardrobe the same way I do, as a first defense to an outsider interested in discovering who I really am? I’m pretty sure I also know people to whom getting dressed is a should not an expression.
I admit I use my clothes. (Sometimes I wonder that they don’t use me, how else to explain the completely out of character purchase I’ve been known to make and wear?) They say you can’t judge a book by its cover, but that is often the very thing that catches our eye and invites connection, so why not use that cover as an advantage? I use mine to make statements; strive for acceptance and/or admiration or announce my mood. With my choice of raiment I attract or repel as circumstances warrant, my personality contracting or expanding dependent on color, construction, fit, and flow.
I also believe the garments I choose send important messages to my Self. If I choose to wear something old and ratty, using the excuse no one will see so what’s the harm, might that not lead to excusing ratty actions because there was no witness? At the end of the day I come home to me, to facing no one but my Self in the mirror and if I garb that Self in something I wouldn’t give to someone I love, then what am I saying to me?
Dancing Through Life with Spirit 