I’d like people to think of me as a clothing drive. No, this isn’t my usual self-deprecating column but rather me encouraging you all to give me all of your flannels and coats. Mostly, because I find a sense of comfort drowning myself in fabric. Shapeless little gems where the line between getting ready for bed and getting ready for class is blurred—versatile clothing as I’d like to say.
I have recently taken a liking to a jacket that isn’t mine, and normally, this particular article of clothing would be outside of my comfort zone. It’s bright yellow with tropical patterns, and the inside is hemmed with mesh and adorned in a black and white geometric pattern—it’s flamboyant is what I’m trying to say. But do not be turned off by my eccentric descriptions because this jacket goes down to my knees, is oversized, and so, so warm. It is the love of my life and, sadly, I had to depart from it and return it to its owner (Jeremy, our Design Editor), though I might steal it from him.
I just feel like I value other people’s clothing more than they do and they should just give their clothes to me. By no means am I saying I want to be anyone’s charity case, but I genuinely see no problem in wearing hand-me-downs. For those of you that are disgusted by this sentiment, you can get off your high horse and understand where I’m coming from. And, perhaps, my [future] employers or high-class individuals might frown upon my clothing decisions, but in all fairness, I can dress business when I need to (there’s no in-between—you either get casual or business, so choose wisely).
At the end of the day, I’m a firm advocate for giving meaning to something that someone declared no longer had value (see my 9/26 column and retract what I said about stealing other people’s clothes), and I also like dressing like a little boy. But for those of you I have convinced to give me all of your dad’s and grandpa’s clothes (preferably not something they died in, ew), I just want you to know that you are appreciated—by me at least.