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Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Mourning Phase

So, let's talk about clothes. I like 'em big, I like 'em shapeless, and most of all, I like 'em to be seriously deficient in CMYK. Here is a picture of my dresser drawer: 


A rainbow of flowy, stretchy, grey things. So the other day, when I saw an infomercial for Suzanne Somers's 3 Way Poncho, I actually thought "the black one's not half bad."


Sometimes I scare myself. 


But what's this all about, really? Is it just about hiding out, and waiting until I'm old enough to buy some Eileen Fisher and call it a day? Or is it some elaborate ritual that I'm instinctively taking part it, thanks to my high school years of devotion to Thomas Hardy?

The color black best represented the Victorian act of mourning because it symbolizes the absence of light and in turn, life. It was an instantly recognizable sign that a loved one had departed this life. It is also said that wearing black for mourning comes from a Roman idea; the mourners could prevent being haunted from the ghost of the deceased by cloaking themselves in black. 

Who is the loved one here? (By the way, "loved one" does not mean just someone you love, it means the dearly departed.) Is it the breast, the body, the old self?

I realize I'm asking lots of questions, and not answering any. Welcome to my brain. More clarity later loves, I swear it.


1 comment:

  1. You ain't alone, sister. I was just thinking today of ditching my entire wardrobe and only wearing black. Makes life with an active one year old much easier to deal with!

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