I better get this out, before it’s too late. Clothes don’t enjoy a long lifespan in my care. If my dog doesn’t eat them, my thighs will. There are also the elements of paint and glitter glue to contend with, not to mention my propensity for losing clothes in the street or wearing something till it turns to rags and people beg me to stop wearing it. ( See Pirate Shirt and Polka Dot Dress )
Right now I am enjoying a full circle clothing experience. My past and present have collided in the phenomenon of my jumpsuit. Allow me to describe.
I have no idea what year it was, but it was back in the day, we were all younger. You may know the year. It was when everybody, EVERYWHERE was selling and wearing velour tracksuits. They matched, top and bottom and they were so velvety. I wanted one real bad. They sold them in every shop of every mall, but at the time, the only one that fit me was at Lane Bryant.
It was a deep burgundy. I dreamed about buying it, I pictured myself wearing it on travelling days. I imagined myself snuggled in luxurious comfort during long car rides, or sitting adorably cross-legged on a shag carpet on a Sunday morning over a warm croissant. The suit was wonderfully loungy. It screamed ” Hug and Pet me!”. It screamed, “I’m on my way to a pedicure, better back that paparazzi up” It screamed ” Even my romp-around clothes are classy as F*ck” That’s what it said back then, and everyone was saying it. You couldn’t go anywhere without seeing a dozen ladies in some vibrant hue of matching velvet hoody and lounge pants, all screaming” You better not being wearing the exact same shade jumpsuit as me bitch”
I imagine, it’s like how all Jeep drivers wave to each other. It was THE cool people club. And I was not a part of it. Because at Lane Brant in that particular year, the velveteen jumpsuit was $75 dollars. Now, back then, I might have spent $75 dollars on say ninja suits, or filling an entire room with balloons but I could not bring myself to spend that kind of cash on a sweatsuit, no matter how smooth it was.
Right before this x-mas, I was shopping with my friend Fufan* ( not her real name ) we were at the Goodwill. I was looking for old leather purses to cut up. My dog had recently eaten my couch you see, and I was looking to mend it, with big multi-color leather patches, so that it looks all bohemian. It turned out to be, like not what I had pictured at all, as the patches pop off when you sit down and hang about dangling from their adhesive like a popped blister. Don’t worry, I’ll fix it, it’s gonna be awesome one day. Anyway, that’s not the point, the point is, my friend Fufan* rounds the corner with this burgundy velveteen jumpsuit. It’s peculiar that she would be the one to find such a thing in the veritable clothes ocean that is Goodwill. Fufan* is kind of obsessed with tracksuits, she has been vying to get matching ones for our entire Neighborhood, with a logo and everything. I get where she is coming from, nothing brings a community together like a matching outfit, it makes you a team, and it’s Boss to look at. Ain’t nobody gonna mess with a crew of people from all walks of life limpin down the sidewalk with all sorts of swagger in matching outfits. Damn. that would be fine.
The track suit in Fufan’s* hand is the exact one I wanted years earlier. It is like 20 sizes too big for her, but it is in PERFECT condition, with the Lane Bryant Tags still on it, and it is $6 dollars, or $12 dollars, or I don’t know, but I like, don’t even hesitate.
There is an ugly sweater party coming up and I decide that I am going to make a cream cheese icing headpiece and wear a matching white icing belt and carry a giant over-sized fork and go as a Red Velvet Cake slice. You are welcome to use that if you too have the Lane Bryant Burgundy Jumpsuit of yesteryear.
I don’t get it together in time for that, so it sits on a shelf, looking at me, wondering how it has come to this. It’s brand new but still old and the fabric has stiffened. Old velour has a kind of bath towel feel to it that is hard to ignore. I don’t want to tell it “hey, you’re not cool anymore” SO I put it on. And…Now I am stuck. I am stuck in this Jumpsuit, It is amazing. I have worn it for days. I have publicized that I have worn it for days, and now everyone I run into while wearing it is like ” Yeah! Go Jumpsuit” I see 5 people I know in the supermarket, this jumpsuit is a celebrity!
I remind myself of a lot of things, I look like Biggie Smalls. I look like everyone’s grandpa after raquetball. I look like George Costanza, which is weird because George Costanza looks nothing like Biggie Smalls. When paired with a striped shirt and polkadot bandanna, I look like I’m getting off a long shift as a clown. It’s a Grimace, Barney, Grandma mash up. I look like a lot of things, but fashionable is not one of them. This trend has sailed the way of the neon leg warmers.
Listen. I don’t need permissions accolades or acceptance in this department. At 40 years old, I pretty much do exactly as I please. I have formed a relationship with this jumpsuit, we are in something together, I’m gonna wear it till it wanders off. But let it be known that I do it with the distinct belief this velveteen monstrosity….is borderline hideous. Maybe the hippest of hipsters could make it ironic. But not me. Which begs the question.
What happened. How did the passing of time make this coveted jewel toned lounger into an embarrassing shoulder pad of an outfit? Never have I been more certain of the surprise magic of the worlds timing. I believe I was given this opportunity as a gift. A chance at time travel. And the amazing experience of being wrong. Thinking that having something will make you feel a certain way. The wrongness of that…is so amplified as I stand in my jumpsuit today, it doesn’t feel remotely cool, and that lesson rings loud. I look around at the things I covet today…and realize if I had to wait twenty years to get em, they wouldn’t feel the same way. Like a zucchini spiralizer could be next years jello mold for all I know.
I have drawn the conclusion: It is a gift to be given something you really wanted and realize you don’t want it anymore. A loving reminder from the earth that stuff is just stuff and we don’t need the “Thing” we think we need to make us happy.
*Name changed to protect the innocent.
