.5 clothes

tell me what you wearing.

no, I'm not coming onto you. but, you know, what are you wearing? what are thy garments, what currently adorns your body, what dresses its shapes and clings to its features?

tell me about your clothes.


aren't they almost, rather peculiar?

because you know, clothes can do a lot of things...

you can put them on and feel new.
you can put them on and feel dirty.
they can feel clean,
they can possess haunting odours,
they can carry good memories
and bad ones.
they can capture a root of your heart
and they can mean barely nothing at all
regardless
of whether they be scraps
or silk.
clothes that can make you shine
make you proud
or make you hide.
even,
clothes that make you want to hide.
the colours fade
and the hems fray
for better or for worse
you must grow out or beyond of them
someday.


i was folding old ladies underwear in a warehouse in cape town last year, ready for redistribution to refugees and the homeless. that's right, you heard me. granny pants. (and often pretty huge ones at that). how degrading must it be to receive a couple of pairs of old used shabby knickers in a plastic bag and be faced with the prospect of having to crawl oneself into the stained crotch-garment of who knows how many previous wearers??

that's one colossal kick in the teeth, if you ask me.

not that thay had much of a choice.


but sitting here, in my fabric-softened, vibrantly brightened, painstakingly designed, layered and neatly machine-sewn-in-some-far-away-land clothes, is quite cool.

the fact that they are my own possessions.
cool.

the fact that i am the only person to have ever worn them.
cool.

the fact that beyond the ones on my back right now, i own plenty more; not just to last me a week, but probably several, months even, including for going out, for staying in, for festivities and events and dressing up and getting splattered with anything.
cool.

the fact that i can probably count on remaining in such a comfortable position for the entirity of my life.
cool.



clothes is about respect.
and worth.
the truth of this isn't fully realisable to you or I, who don't know what it's like to be actually without this source.

but listen to the ancient songs
of the barefooted african slaves.
and get inside their head-

"...I got a shoes and when I get to heaven gonna put on
my shoes and walk all over God's heaven..."

- traditional slave spiritual

and another thing:
clothes don't just give us comfort, warmth, and a sense of general well-being.
they give us protection.
and security.
and dignity.

i don't like to presume, but i expect that the main reason the majority of us aren't naturists is that clothes provide us with a refuge. we like to conceal (though some of us more so than others), and protect, in order to feel mentally and emotionally comfortable around others. it would be interesting to know if the reason for why we're embarassed came before we started wearing clothes, or afterwards...(i would argue the latter, but then, i have no intention of reverting back to such former early childhood habits).


the idea of being naked, too, is particularly scary. it means being unprotected,
defenceless,
open,
vulnerable.


i reckon that when HE was nailed to a cross, he was naked. my guess is that the linen strip around his waist is actually a fabrication of embarrassed artists and the tradition just lives on.


personally, i don't see why they would've bothered preserving his modesty.