End of a Challenge

So, the year is new and my Buy No Clothes for a Year challenge is over.  The goal was to go for a whole twelve months without purchasing or actively acquiring any clothes, be they brand new or second hand, with exceptions for underwear and any items necessary for work. And I’d say, more or less, I was successful. The only clothing purchases wear a pair of trousers for a job interview, a pair of jeans to wear to my neat-casual dress-code job, and a dress. The dress is the one item that walks a thin line; ostensibly it was for work – and I did wear it first to a job interview – but it felt more like I was buying it for the pretty. The fact that it could be worn to work seemed a little like an added benefit. BUT I did wear it to work (in fact so far, I’ve only worn it to work) and all three items were op-shopped, too, so I feel pretty good about it all too.

Somewhere around about September, I started to get veeeeery bored with what was in my wardrobe. Favourite, basic, comfy items like my jeans and long sleeved black tops were starting to wear out and look quite ratty and I was feeling quite frustrated with the lack of variety. This was when I started to get a bit experimental with some of my outfits, and also started chopping and hemming various other items just so I felt like I had something new to wear! Also about this, my very stylish sisters cleared out their wardrobes almost simultaneously, and without asking I ended up with a few staples and pretties to freshen my wardrobe and give me the boost to stay out the last few months.

The most successful part, however, wasn’t about whether I did or did not slip up, but it was more about my attitude to clothes. I’ve always loved to dress up, of putting on a persona with my clothes, and for me dressing had become inextricably linked with who the world perceived me as. I was getting too caught up in questioning whether I was giving the world the right perception of me through my clothes, especially since moving to the inner northern suburbs of Melbourne, a very style conscious area. In short, I was stressing too much about my image, and felt that that problem could be solved by the next trip to the vintage store (which of course it never was!). So the year just gone was about stepping back from my interaction with the ‘perfection myth’ sold to us by advertising in its many forms and learning to be satisfied with what I have.  I hadn’t realised until last year that I felt a pressure walking into, or even past a clothing store, a pressure to consider the options, weigh them up, contemplate which items I liked and which worked for me and which sold the world the image of me that I wanted it to see. The first time I walked past a clothes store and I wasn’t allowed to consider the clothes, I was surprised by the sense of relief that I felt. Over the year, that sense of relief has turned into a sense of freedom, and that is the success of this clothing challenge.

Having said all that, I wet op-shopping last Wednesday, and got quite a haul. Wanna see?

A lovely, warm green woollen coat to replace the cheap, polyester one I have been wearing.

A cute silk cropped jacket that Dom picked off the rack for me. It fits me very well!

I was very happy with this purchase: a dress from Cue. Not only is it second hand, but originally, it was made in Australia from Italian made fabric. It looks to be very well made, it fits me well, and will be quite versatile. I bought it with work in mind, but I think it'll cross into the after five category quite nicely. And all for twenty bucks!

Now this is one that has nothing to do with work!  A party frock all the way, coloured tights some ankle boots. I think I'm going to wear this to the Sisters of Mercy gig in February.

A light summer frock. I'd wear this over swimmers if we were closer to the beach, and if the weather seemed at all like anything approximating beach weather.

Doesn't look much on the hanger, but this is a pure wool, tailored skirt. Found this in one of the up-market 'burb Vinnies. It's a touch more corporate than I'm used to, but I'm sure it'll come in handy for the new job.

A few basic tees. Mostly from horrible brands like Dotti and Supre with poor ethical and quality track records that I wouldn't ordinarily touch, but second hand, that's less of an issue and they'll be good for layering.

A nice vintage jumper.

A good top which again will cross well from work wear to casual wear.

Another Dom selection. I think it's intended to be a men's vest; it's quite long, but worn over jeans, possibly with a belt around the middle, and I think it'll look quite dapper.

Another possible work dress. I think it might be home-sewn, cos I can't find any tags. Too bad I didn't find this one while I was still at the kinder -- it would have been great for orange day!

I think this is a work dress. It looks quite stylish over tights with a scarf and possibly a belt. I don't think it's quite me outside of office hours though...

And finally, a comfy, cotton knit bath robe for keeping decent around flatmates.

All in all, not a bad day's shopping. Dom got a fair few things for himself, and we picked up a few things for the house as well. Far more shopping than I've done in quite a while.

Last night, before a darkened roomful of masqued and be-costumed heaving bodies, sweaty and drunk and sparkle-laden revellers -- after the bare-tittied midnight cake-burst-Neil-snog, but before the ukulele solo -- Amanda Palmer, wearing a corset she bought from a girl in the audience for the promise of a snog, told us she didn't believe in making New Year's Resolutions.
"They're for lazy people," she said, after singing us a song about working out she's exactly the person she wants to be, right now.

I get it.

I have no New Year's Resolutions this year. I mean, it's not something I'm in the habit of doing anyway. Last year, I had one (buy no clothes for a whole year) but that was more of a challenge really. A challenge I successfully completed -- more or less -- as Amanda burst out of that cake last night. Or, more accurately, about four and a half minutes earlier, as her husband, Neil Gaiman, finished reading a poem about the effects of drinking whiskey on artistic endeavour as it relates to writing.

But, challenges aside, I see nothing that needs changing in my life.

No. No, that's not true. The Tower reversed has not turned up in my spread for some time now. No resistance to change, here. I'm happy -- more than happy, I encourage -- for things to grow and evolve. But there's nothing bad, nothing wrong, nothing that needs a stern lashing of willpower and resolve.

Things are good. Great. In just over two weeks, I'll start my new job. For the first time, I have a job not just because it's there, or just because I can do it, but because I chose it. Something that I believe in, that is changing the world for the better, not causing harm, however indirectly.

I am saving; I see the goal ahead of me, although a few years down the track, yet. A house, built by my hands and his, with a fireplace, and bookshelves, turkey rugs and patchwork curtains, a big kitchen and an even bigger dining table to have you all over for tea. With a garden all around, with oh-so-much food and chickens and neighbours and you.

Sometimes, I see this so clearly, I could knock on the front door.

But here and now, in this wonderful, quirky, home-ish house, I am deliriously content. My garden, as they say, is cranking. The pumpkins are beginning to swell, and I ate the very first beans off the vine for my dinner tonight. And if the basil never really grew, and only one capsicum plant survived and the eggplants never are going to flourish, so what? I have more tomatoes than I'll ever know what to do with, and more on the way; I get more zucchinis morning and night and there is really nothing like cucumber sliced fresh off the vine. Slowly, slowly, we remove more packaging from our shelves and less and less processed food comes into my kitchen and I am satisfied.

And I am happily, sickeningly, heart-burstingly, ribcage-tighteningly, breath-catchingly in love. His smile still gives me butterflies, his mind engages mine, and best of all, we just fit together effortlessly. Being with Dom is simultaneously both the easiest and most rewarding thing in my life. Our life together is everything I hoped for while I waited.

So, life is pretty fucking awesome right now.

But, still I say: I welcome growth, and I welcome change, even as fear flutters in my belly as I type those words, I welcome it.
(all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well)

Still, there are some things I'd like to do. Not resolutions, but wishes. I'd like to write more, and I'd like to make more balance in my life to have the time to write more. There's a novel (at least one) still sitting in my head, waiting to be ink on paper.

And I'd like to perform again. I felt that strongly last night. And not just to perform, but to build a show, craft it, fill it with weird beautiful carnie creatures. Last night, there was a big-haired, skull-shouldered, horse-headed, pegasus-winged, gyrating hipped vampire male anti-burlesque act to Lost Boys Cry Little Sister. I want to touch that again.

Last night, Neil said some beautiful words. His wish for us all this year is that we might make some mistakes. Mistakes are beautiful things, he said, because to make mistakes means you're trying something new. And a mistake means you're doing something, and it's important to do.

I hope this year I make mistakes, and I birth new things, that I am bold and that I evolve, and that I do and that, even if I feel that flutter of fear, I greet the Tower, the Wheel and the World with open arms.

Happy New Year!