shopping and *ahem* boys

Shopping for clothes can be likened to our experience with guys. We girls insist on trying on stuff we very well know can’t afford, much like our falling for guys (or girls for the gender-confused like me) we can’t have… just for the heck of it.

Sometimes, when desperate enough, we settle for the second, third or even the fourth best because (1) we really can’t afford the best or the new arrivals, (2) they were the only ones left for us, and/or (3) they were on sale and we want to take advantage of that.

In addition, the stuff we have been coveting for for ages, however affordable it is, might already be sold out, ergo, taken.

Chancing upon a great catch is indeed a lucky break. Like spotting a tank top that flatters your figure and seems to go with almost every skirt or pair of pants you have in the closet. You fervently hope it would last forever, or at least, long enough for the price to be sulit. You also pray to the goddesses of fashion that this particular top would outwit and outplay the fads in fashion, and survive the quirks and fickleness of its worst enemy: you.

However, there are cases when you have finally settled on something (or someone, whatever context you’re in) and decided to call it your own, you might find out too late that it wasn’t as great as you imagined it to be. It might have looked perfect in the flattering mirror of the fitting room and with the enthusiastic fawning of the sales gay, but back in the real world, the flaws rear their ugly heads. Its color doesn’t really complement your skin tone, it makes you look fat, its fabric gets itchy after some time, you can’t match it with most of your wardrobe so you need to buy new clothes to go with it, or, horrors, there’s a tear in the seams that you have missed.

You begin to wonder what could have been had you chosen the khaki pants, simple and boring yet classic, instead of the low-waist jeans with sequins that you now have, daring and sexy but, in retrospect, has the makings of a mere flash in the pan. And the time comes when the fad for the sequined jeans is over, or when you no longer fit in them. At this point, you either try to change its design to keep up with the new fad, or send it to the seamstress for alteration to keep up with your waistline. If these attempts fail, your pair of jeans finds itself stuffed at the back of your closet or in a bag among other hand-me-downs. Either way, both you and your pair of jeans must accept that change is inevitable.

This is a very difficult thing to do. “Sayang. I only got to wear it for such a short time,” you might say about your sequined jeans. Then you try to philosophize, “But I have no use for it now.” And on your favorite tank top you’ve had for ages: “Gosh, I like this one pa sana, but it’s so worn out already. I’ll use this as my pantulog na lang.” Sooner or later you would realize that you have to break off any connection between the two of you, or try to remain friends. And you would do what you have left to do: sigh and move on.

Following the separation, you probably would decide to rest for some time. After all, you are pretty much content with the rest of your clothes. You window shop once in a while, lingering in your favorite stores, indulging yourself to walk into the more expensive shops just for the heck of it. You allow yourself to wander into the fitting room with some clothes, but never quite committing yourself to one particular item.

Then something catches your eye. It might be an item you’ve overlooked in your previous trips, or a new arrival. Either way, you start to think, is this pink skirt worth its price? Will its embroidered hem go well with my other clothes? Is this the one or will there be something better waiting for me in the next store? You think long and hard, trying not to let the sales gay sweet talk his way into your wallet, or to be distracted by your aching feet (and tired heart). You tell yourself that you could come back later, when you’re absolutely certain that you want that skirt. But there’s this nagging feeling that it might not be there anymore.

When you finally make up your mind on whether to take the skirt now or come back for it later, or even whether or not you want that skirt at all, you realize that in either aspect of your life, shopping or boys, you would always have to take risks. You face the sales gay and announce which risk you are going to take. And the cycle continues.