20101213

beefing

Passing shoulders, C halted to marvel at the saturated stripes of cerulean, kelly, and white.  "Your taste in clothes is aging," she offered.  All she got was a cackle.

Some background on this germane individual.  Like those similar minded, her philosophy for clothing is defined as an image enhancer.  "With age," -- with as much seriousness as stating an opinion -- clothing takes on a greater role of much of the same; this means sequins, stark colors, and components of holiday adornments.

While yet time for an overhaul, she pronounced my departure from minimalism.  My allowance for color in an outfit was limited to different colors under the same hue.  I realize now, the aesthetic of not repeating hues nor colors; stark contrasts can be harmonious.  Also, it's a cost-absent method of upending a wardrobe.

Nevertheless, not even the Ark Hotel was built in a single day; with viridian Levi's on, I was well-nigh of counting my steps to muted gray shorts.

20101116

cords

Before my years of personal choice, corduroy was a hapless fabric to find in clothes.  Bulkiness was a characteristic often unwittingly paired along.  The surface area carried, with each ridge, a compartment for lingering odors – for homes with shrines, this meant a constant reminder that a deity is not in charge of doing your laundry.

In recent, finer tailoring days, it requires less effort to develop a fondness toward its cotton-esque daintiness yet rugged-textured exterior.  I have worn these corduroy pants from American Apparel that are no different than leaving bed sans legs; you feel dressed for comfort, but in reality you are doing so and looking however great the fit allows.

For me, if anyone, odor control has become much less of a concern.  Though, corduroy's attraction for carpets may be the next hurdle.  I'll deal with my OCD afterward.