The striped, brown-beige satin tunic top in front of me is the most hideous thing I’ve ever seen.
To add insult to injury, according to the price tag still attached to it, it cost 120 EUR. I mean, wtf ?!? Who on earth spends that kind of money on something they never wear? You’d have to be stark raving mad, blind or . . . well, me.
Take a look at this fashion disaster and meet Fantasy Me after the jump.
So here it is, literally brand new, still unworn and waiting for its moment that will never come. It‘s been that way ever since I bought it in that moment of insanity five years ago.
I remember exactly what ran through my mind when I discovered it on the shiny pages of that fancy designer catalogue I had been browsing through on that rainy, gray January day.
There was this beautiful, leggy blonde wearing it while soaking up the afternoon sun in a picture-perfect pool scene. Over her skinny white jeans, with her casually tied back hair and her vintage Christian Dior sunnies , it looked perfect.
‘You, too, can look like her,’ my inner voice whispered, ‘if only you bought this tunic...‘
...and lost two stones and grew a miraculous eleven inches over night‘ my voice of reason put in. The latter was ignored of course (as so often is the case when it comes to my fashion disasters).
Needless to say, I looked nothing like this gorgeous woman in the catalogue when I put it on, so I really don‘t know what made me keep it.
This tunic isn‘t the only item of clothing that I never wear but which I have refused to throw out because of guilt over the waste of money (have I mentioned that the tunic cost 120 EUR?!? Have I???) - or the hope that one day I would wear them again.
Here‘re some more outfits that found their way into the binbag today:
How about this skirt?
I must have thought once that it looked very catwalk. Very fashionable.
But, in fact, today it seems more like a pair of 1970s curtains to me. Maybe it actually was a pair of curtains?
Right next to it, was this green military-print sweater, which also cost a small fortune and which I have worn exactly twice.
After some overly-enthusiastic comment by my hairdresser Martin about how this color brought out the green in my eyes, and which sounded about as honest as Kim Kardashian promising ever-lasting-love to her next husband-in-waiting, I decided this one would have to be banned to the back of my closet too.
Digging deeper, I pulled out some more losers:
Like this figure-hugging, floral-fake-leopard-print summer dress, meant to be worn to a fancy summer garden party. Uhm... let‘s just say, the party fitting that dress just never came round (or rather, in broad daylight, and given the fact that I‘m not really a size zero, the print on front did not spell sexy so much as desperate for attention if you get my meaning.
I got other party dresses that would fit the Las Vegas party scene but feel completely out of place wherever we go on a date-night.
They all hang at the back of my closet, nicely protected from sunlight and moths, occasionally taken out to be admired and pushed back again.
Let‘s not forget the jeans that I’ve had for years and am still waiting to ‘slim back into‘. Like my old favorite that I haven't fit into since six years ago when my weight was at its all-time-lowest, thanks to a severe pneumonia which I had picked up on our trip to China.
(Note to self: Catching a serious disease in Asia which your body takes six weeks to half-way recover from is NOT a good way to lose excessive weight!)
I mean, seriously, why do we do this? Why do women buy clothes that they have no chance of wearing? Well, most of us do.
I read somewhere that there are certain patterns of „desperate consumerism“:
There‘s the classic ‘I’ll fit into it one day’ category I am very well acquainted with. Research has found that women buy, on average, three items of clothes they know to be too small, as an incentive to diet. Really? Only three? (Cleary I have rosen above average in that area!)
Even the smartest women fall for it, they say. Well, the three pairs of jeans that sit on the lowest shelf of my closet - unworn for years - are testament to the fact that it has never worked for me. Ever.
Next are the so-called 'panic buys'. We all know them, right? Like the hunt for a last-minute outfit for special occasions (weddings, business meetings, etc.), often done shortly before the shops are closing. That is usually the moment when all rationality goes out of the window and a pink zebra-print skirt suddenly looks like quite a chic choice - until the moment when you pull it on at home and realize you look like a slutty Quality Street wrapper.
Of course, there’s also the infamous 'bargain purchases'. The ‘it’s 50 per cent off in the sale“ and you hear your inner voice screaming 'What are you waiting for? Go, buy two!' ‘Look, it’s Armani! Down from € 1.000 to just € 250.' Who cares if I have no occasion to wear a purple, floor-length strapless sequin gown with a broken zip?
All that went through my mind while sorting through these fashion disasters that had taken residence in my closet. And then it came to me, the perfect explanation. I realized that obviously, sometimes I buy clothes for the person I want to be, not the person I actually am.
So here is where my Fantasy Me comes in. Whenever I’m in a boutique full of super-trendy outfits, I buy things for the fantasy me: the one who is running around town in high heels, defying gravity and obstacles such as cobblestones, carrying off daring colours and all sorts of hip clothes with a Kate Moss nonchalance and an effortless elegance. I don’t buy for the real me, who wears jeans and V‑neck sweaters just because they’re so comfortable.
Fantasy Me is the same girl that remains forever in her mid-twenties, sports no wrinkles or oily and impure skin. Her legs are endless and well-formed and would carry these recently obtained knitted leg warmers with bobbles (!) to new levels of hipness, don't you think?
(Hey, they were on sale! And did you notice the bobbles?!?)
If you‘ll excuse me now, I must go and find Fantasy Me. Otherwise my closet will overflow with clothes never to be worn.