So, a little reminder, this entry is the third part of my homework assignment to use snippets of my life/experiences (a biopsy) to start evaluating what happiness is and if it’s worth it. Specifically I was told to:

1. Figure out where my mind visits often, my memories/fantasies.
2. See the suffering. How long is the suffering versus happiness?
3. How do I repeat the cycle?

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A Slave to Fashion

You see, I am a Fashionista it’s one of the places my mind visits most often. Even as a kid, I loved to play dress-up. By the time I could drive, my favorite destination was the mall. Even when I was broke in college, I made weekly shopping trips to the goodwill. Little by little, paycheck by paycheck, I came to frequent Marshals, then Bloomys, then Neimans and Barney’s…

I remember my first pair of black boots. I put them on and felt so sexy, so strong, like some bad-ass chick in the movies ready to kick ass. In my wrong view ridden mind, clothes give me a sense of control. With just a little fabric and some bling, I believe I can make people see me the way I want to be seen. I can come-off as sexy and strong (black boots), professional and smart (crisp blazer), wealthy (Goyard bag), buttoned-up (matching belt and shoes), ageless (black dress), stylish… Clothes help make me special and unique, at least till I take them off, or they go out of fashion, or they make the wrong impression…

But my bright and fancy wardrobe has a dark side. It’s not just the monthly credit card bill, or the time I spend shopping and caring for my clothes. Sometimes I open my closet door and I literally feel oppressed. I feel like I have so many items, I have the responsibility to figure out how to wear them all. I need to plan outfits that are original and appropriate, that no one has seen me in before.  I need to shop constantly, to keep up with the stylish image I have created. I bought a great skirt, but now I need to find a shirt and shoes to match. I used to shop at Gap and Banana Republic but once I got a feel for Prada fabric, saw how Gucci fits just right (#3), I set new standards, conditions (#4) for what this fashionista should and shouldn’t go around wearing.  I can’t go back after all, so I get trapped in a cycle of more clothes, more matching, better brands, new outfits. I have to preserve my image. I have to preserve myself.

This is how I get reborn. Just like with clothes, I have an ever changing ‘fact’ sheet (#3 memory) of what is fashionable, desirable, situationally appropriate. Of what is good. I (#4) imagine-up an outfit that fits the bill, I imagine how that outfit helps create an Alana, I imagine the Alana that I will or won’t be. And once I have the perfect outfit, the perfect Alana, I need to figure out how to keep it up, how to one-up it for the next event. Black booted, kick-ass Alana  doesn’t give-up after all, so my only choice is to keep becoming….