When I was down and out earlier this year with Polymyositis, one of the simple pleasures that I really missed was being able to wear real clothes. As in, not the extra-large sweatpants and t-shirts that were all I could wriggle into with such limited movement. What's the point of wearing real clothes anyway, when you never leave the house and feel like you live in purgatory-on-earth? In a fit of sweatpants-backlash, I ordered a pinkish/orange velvet blazer from J Crew. I think the actual color title was "roasted red pepper", true to corny catalog copy. It's fitted, tailored, and perfect with trouser jeans and tall boots. I probably never would have bought it if I hadn't been feeling sorry for myself and wanted something that screamed "opposite of sweatpants!". It was worth it.
I read an article that discusses the use of symbolic elements to assert desired traits and group membership. My velvet jacket means that I am human again. I can dress myself. I have places to go. Same with those half-tights I bought a few months ago. I'm a runner, watch me fly. There's no place for half-tights in the sick world. And the GPS that I'm contemplating getting myself for Christmas would mean that I'm rugged and outdoorsy. Trailblazer! I see the pattern now. I think advertising professionals figured this out a while ago. Well-played...
