the fashion crisis

The other day I was shopping at the Forever 21 superstore in my hometown mall in Albany and looking at these horribly tacky gauzy puffed-sleeve fashion abortions in bright lame with absolutely zero practical application to the daytime world, and it dawned on me that I could just say "fuck those guys" and wear WHATEVER THE FUCK I WANT ALL THE TIME. I even walked out of the store with a shamelessly too short, bright blue ruffly dress that only fits me on skinny days. I didn't bring it to Japan because there are giant cockroaches and venomous centipedes and mold monsters, and also because there is pretty much no occasion to wear such a dress here since there is no '80s night. But why should I need an occasion? I could dress like Björk at an awards ceremony EVERY DAY.

It occasionally drives me nuts that I always gravitate toward sensible and plain clothes. I see pictures of incredibly cool outfits by the baker's dozen every day of the week and I have the money and easy access to fantastic and affordable shopping, so what gives? It's like my entire life is spent waiting for the opportune moment to "improve" or "change" in a given way, and when that moment shows its face I just shove it back to the back of the waiting list. This is why nothing gets done and why I don't look as cool as this chick does when I leave my house on a Friday night.