Post by Izzy Taylor on Nov 22, 2008 22:27:01 GMT -5
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Izzy held a fluorescent pink skirt at arms length, squinting at it and silently wishing he had sunglasses or something so that he could look directly at it. He was looking for something, something comfortable, something eye-catching, anything new to wear. Not that he didn't have plenty of clothes of course, and it wasn't because he'd already got to the point at which he'd worn the same outfit twice in public in (gasp) the same year. He was simply bored with what was already in his wardrobe, and had decided that, instead of spending the day doing something constructive, like writing music or tuning his guitar or completing that damned crossword puzzle he’d started five days ago, he’d remedy the wardrobe situation by giving his favourite district a visit. He always found something unusual and interesting to wear around here;over half of the items he owned came from various little shops and stalls around here. That said, the bright pink assault on his eyeballs was a bit too unusual, even for him, and carefully, he placed it back on the rack with the rest of the neon coloured clothing before moving on to look at jewellery instead.
He had never quite understood the obsession the media seemed to have with what celebrities wore, and whether or not they wore it more than once. And it always seemed that no matter what you did, the media were determined to hate it. He remembered the fuss made when he wore his favourite outfit twice in one month. Phrases such as “can’t he afford more than three outfits?” came to mind. A self-satisfied smirk crept onto his face as he remembered also how he’d worn the same outfit the very next day. Conversely, though, if you wore a different outfit each day, people would criticise money poorly spent. As someone who didn’t really think too much into clothes or fashion, rather just wearing what was attractive to him (meaning anything that made him look like a throwback to the Eighties) that morning, it annoyed him when people cared so much about the clothes in someone else’s closet. So much so that he seriously considered buying a grey tracksuit that was too big for him and wearing that to whatever awards bash he was next invited to. Probably not very fashionable or “cool” or whatever the kids were calling it these days. But at least he’d be comfortable.
Sighing in frustration, still not quite sure what he was looking for, he moved back to the clothes, averting his gaze from the retina-burning shirts and skirts and leggings, looking around at the slightly more neutral items surrounding them. Sometimes he wished he had someone to shop with, since he was always so indecisive, and unlike other people around here he observed rushing around every last store and market place carrying tons of bags, he found himself milling about the same bit for hours on end and maybe only leaving with one to two items. He didn’t envy those who seemed to buy enough crap to fill their entire home (and any holiday homes besides), but he could at least use someone else’s eye, a second opinion, some encouragement to buy a much loved item… or maybe just some company. Lifting a pretty turquoise pendant with a silver dragon design over it, he chewed his bottom lip in thought. Yes, it was probably company he needed in reality. Not that he’d ever admit to it of course.
