Fashion free pursuits
November 23rd 2009 23:17
Is there ever a time where fashion doesn’t matter? I have pondered this before, and I have to say I have changed my mind. I used to think yes, and now I think I am leaning towards a no. I recently read that the ability to change your mind is a sign of intelligence, so I am quite happy with my about face. (And by changing your mind, this article cited altering long held beliefs; we’re not talking suddenly choosing pasta when you previously thought you wanted a sandwich for lunch.)
I used to think there were certain situations in life where you should just put fashion to one side and concentrate on the real matter at hand. Granted, there were few I could come up with but the one that springs to mind was the gym. I possibly had this delusion due to the lack of time I spent in a gym myself, and now that I have discovered the joys of exercise, I have most certainly changed my mind. I look hideous at the gym. I am not one of those girls that can get through a body combat class barely breaking a sweat and leaving looking relaxed and with a subtle glow. I morph into beetroot woman, complete with crazy hair and I hate to say it, on occasion, sweat patches. Now my exercise-loving buddies assure me that this is a fabulous sign of how hard I’m working and what a great workout I’ve just had, and I thank them for their unwavering support and lack of judgment on my exceedingly rosy complexion, but this less than desirable physical state has made me realize something. I look even more hideous if I’m in terrible gym gear. Call me conceited, call me vain, but if I have to look like a rapidly wilting tomato, I’d rather be wilting in designer gym gear. That way at least some of me can look acceptable.
And this got me thinking about other situations where previously I would have pooh-poohed the notion that appearance shouldn’t come into play. Like being sick. This year I was struck down with a turbo flu unlike anything I have experienced previously. I looked like an extra on Shaun of the Dead for the best part of a week, regardless of how much sleep I got, and how many Lemsips I sipped. Being the kind man that he is, my other half insisted on me spending my week with the lurgy at his house so he could look after me, but I was acutely aware of how disgusting I looked. He kindly tried to hide his horror, but I could see the rosy glow of romance dissipating as he looked into my red rimmed eyes and struggled to be heard over me blowing my nose. What is there to do in such a situation other than to turn all attention to your ensemble? Granted, you still need to be comfy, but I would much rather at least be seen on my deathbed in a comfortable designer than matching my atrocious physical state with an equally horrendous outfit.
And so I stand corrected. There is always a place for fashion, and I believe that those situations where you may start thinking there isn’t demand it even more. On that note, do Prada do workout wear?
I used to think there were certain situations in life where you should just put fashion to one side and concentrate on the real matter at hand. Granted, there were few I could come up with but the one that springs to mind was the gym. I possibly had this delusion due to the lack of time I spent in a gym myself, and now that I have discovered the joys of exercise, I have most certainly changed my mind. I look hideous at the gym. I am not one of those girls that can get through a body combat class barely breaking a sweat and leaving looking relaxed and with a subtle glow. I morph into beetroot woman, complete with crazy hair and I hate to say it, on occasion, sweat patches. Now my exercise-loving buddies assure me that this is a fabulous sign of how hard I’m working and what a great workout I’ve just had, and I thank them for their unwavering support and lack of judgment on my exceedingly rosy complexion, but this less than desirable physical state has made me realize something. I look even more hideous if I’m in terrible gym gear. Call me conceited, call me vain, but if I have to look like a rapidly wilting tomato, I’d rather be wilting in designer gym gear. That way at least some of me can look acceptable.
And this got me thinking about other situations where previously I would have pooh-poohed the notion that appearance shouldn’t come into play. Like being sick. This year I was struck down with a turbo flu unlike anything I have experienced previously. I looked like an extra on Shaun of the Dead for the best part of a week, regardless of how much sleep I got, and how many Lemsips I sipped. Being the kind man that he is, my other half insisted on me spending my week with the lurgy at his house so he could look after me, but I was acutely aware of how disgusting I looked. He kindly tried to hide his horror, but I could see the rosy glow of romance dissipating as he looked into my red rimmed eyes and struggled to be heard over me blowing my nose. What is there to do in such a situation other than to turn all attention to your ensemble? Granted, you still need to be comfy, but I would much rather at least be seen on my deathbed in a comfortable designer than matching my atrocious physical state with an equally horrendous outfit.
And so I stand corrected. There is always a place for fashion, and I believe that those situations where you may start thinking there isn’t demand it even more. On that note, do Prada do workout wear?
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Comment by Journeywoman
Great Hair Style Tips
I Dream of Hollywood
Fashion Peach
I always like to make myself look as good as I can when I'm sick, too. Often when I look okay, I can convince myself that I feel okay (which I guess is being dishonest to myself in a way, but it keeps me as productive as I possibly can be!).... so you're not alone there.
A good read, as always