jeans lust

[image courtesy of NY Times]

Because I don’t like packing, and because I will no longer have to deal with my wardrobe choices being limited to jcrew, banana republic, and forever 21 (calm yourself. it’s just for bangley things) I’ve been getting rid of quite a bit. The wardrobe situation has been ESPECIALLY bad since Marshal Fields became Macys and the whole world collapsed around me. Which ok, fine. We live in West Michigan and no-one is really out to win the fashionista awards unless it results in a marriage proposal and a house with a white picket fence. Since I’m not looking for either at the moment, and because there's only so much shopping you can do over the internets, I guess I can relax. Also, it’s summer so clothes in general are less present than they might be in -5 degree weather. Come fall though, I have this sneaking suspicion that I’ll be entirely screwed.

Anyway, back to the point - getting rid of things. There’s actually not that much to get rid of. I’ve been fairly deliberate not to get too settled here, since I knew that in the long term I didn’t plan on staying. Which is partly why Rooms and I signed a lease that I could get out of at any point, and it’s also why there have been very few furniture purchases. Only a handful of what I have bought, or made, will be making the cut in the move. But somehow with the recent bout of pitching/donating, I managed to end up with exactly three pairs of jeans. When I realized that I’d effectively managed to whittle my wardrobe down to almost nothing, I had this moment of “take that you consumerist society!!!” This thought was followed with “day-um I’m low maintenance.” Until I got the new anthropologie catalog and remembered that my favoritest jeans that had the uncanny ability to make my ass look fiiiiiine had ripped from here to never-never land while climbing up on a roof. And now I want these. And these. And these.