Over the course of my four years at CHS, I have worn the same general outfit to school every day: striped nylon pants and a shirt with a single stripe across it. With each passing day, the only change has been the color of the shirt and the color of the stripes. I have been told by many of my peers that I should wear something different. I have also been warned that if I commit such an act it could possibly be a sign of the apocalypse.
Many articles talk about what your clothes say about you, the theory being that clothing reflects one’s personality. In that case, I can safely conclude that I am simple, conservative and have great taste in fashion.
If clothes truly do reflect one’s personality, then it makes sense to believe that if I were to change my clothing style, I would experience a transformation in my personality.
After searching my closet, I found that I do indeed possess a couple of pairs of jeans and seven shirts unmarked by that single stripe. I made up my mind to begin my experiment the following morning.
I will document my experiences below.
Day 1: I am wearing jeans and a California Dreamin’ shirt (yes, the “g” has been substituted with an apostrophe). I got the shirt as a Hanukkah present earlier in the year, which explains why this non-striped specimen was in my dresser.
Immediately after putting on my pants, I can recall why I have always loathed jeans—they are too loose. I always see classmates having to pull their jeans up every two minutes, and I wish to offer them a word of advice: wear nylon. It stretches and fits and does not require belts, which are such hassles. Not to mention that jean pockets are purely for show.
On an added note, fewer belts could possibly lead to a decline in the suicide rate. Think about it.
Day 2: I wore a black jacket over a gray tie-dye shirt of a giant wolf head. I got the shirt at Busch Gardens several years ago and it almost fits.
This particular pair of jeans is looser than yesterday’s. I cannot stop thinking that if I were to chase or be chased by someone—not that I am necessarily planning on it—I would not get very far before my pants fall off.
Day 5: I am wearing a second awesome tie-dye Busch Gardens shirt, marked with a fierce eagle. I also finally managed the art of fitting my cell phone into my jean pocket.
In Comparative Religion, a classmate sitting behind me did not know that I was right in front of him because he did not recognize me in a hoodie.
Day 6: I received two compliments over my shirt today, but find it ironic because this one is striped.
Day 7: I have come to school in a dark red shirt.
It has been one week, and still no change in my personality. I currently crave raspberry sorbet—a possible result of my red shirt—but that was not the kind of change I was hoping for. I never thought I would be so disappointed to learn that my personality was not dependent on my clothing, but a part of me is looking forward to returning to my regular shirts and comfortable nylon pants.
Day 13: My experiment is over, yet, strangely, as hard as I try, I cannot bring myself to make the switch back to my old clothes. I rummage through my dresser now feverishly searching for a shirt I have not yet worn. I then stare in the mirror and bemoan the utterly attractive person I have become.
I have always been curious about why people leave their clothes in the strangest places: shoes hanging from telephone wires or in the middle of the street; an old sweatshirt alone in a corner of a classroom. Now I realize that everyday, people are trying to get rid of their clothes, to remove themselves from their self-imposed prison of designer denim jeans and tight turnover collars. Those of you who do not wear jeans—I say, never try them! You might not be able to take them off.
