I really like clothes.
I really like gawdy, gold bracelets.
I really like shopping in any number of places.
I really like expensive designer brands.
I really like Target's 75% off clearance rack.
I really like patterned shift dresses.
I really like simple and timeless.
I really like a good #ootd.
I really like basic tees.
I really like Kate, Stella, Michael, and Tory.
Oh, I really, really like it all.
I am ashamed to admit the number of times an overwhelming desire grips my ability to reason and before I realize it I am skipping out the door with green-greed pulsating in my eyes and my car is suddenly parked and my feet are moving me towards a Target, a mall, a boutique. I have often convinced myself one more bedazzled shirt, one more shiny bauble, one more flouncy skirt and I will suddenly find fashion fulfillment. This may all sound hyper-dramatized, but this is an on-going struggle. It is not the type of struggle that decimates my banking account or makes me chose between food or a new top, yet it is grave serious. It is serious because it has great potential to become an idol, a scheming false pretense that plots to steal my affection from Christ. Even more so, where you put your money is often where you put your heart. Imagining what kingdom impact my money spent on clothing could have is a sombering reality.
Clothes can become a security blanket. If you have ever viewed yourself as unattractive, overweight, or void of joy--guess what looks better and better with every flash sale, every new boutique opening, every red sale sign? Clothing. Being both an avid consumer of fashion and working on the sales side for years I know how real this struggle is to so, so many gorgeous women. It pained me to hear beautiful women utter something like, "If you don't like what is under them, at least you will look good on the outside" or "This would look so much better if I lost 20 pounds" as they flung too-small, hiphugger jeans over the dressing-room door towards me. Phrases like this just even more accurately pinpoint how dangerous materialism can become if you begin to use a perpetual shopping trip to uplift your spirits. I don't say these things to tell you I never want to buy another new thing to hang in my closet...because that just is not true (refine my heart, oh Lord). Instead I hope to lend a perspective I have to continually remind myself of: contentment is only found in the Lord. Joy is only found in the Lord.
While working as a sales associate, I remember feeling impending doom and happiness mingle together when one particularly precious woman would enter into my store weekly. She wore a hat to cover the damage chemotherapy wrecked on her body and mind. Her wigs varied from giddy blonde to spunky brunette. She often joked her spontaneous hair escapades was her favorite blessing from cancer. As she entered the store, always impeccably dressed, always flawless makeup, she would zealously pile clothes into my arms as I started her dressing room. I wanted to hug her, to cry with her. I wanted to go grab lunch with her. I didn't want to use her pained heart and broken lymphatic system to meet my sales quota for the day. It was so evident that clothing brought her a quick fix, like a drug addict's prick. However, her weekly trips made her feel better and I am in no place to steal that. This warrior felt beautiful for a few hours while she tried on new outfits and our staff oooooed and ahhhhhed over her.
I challenge myself to: 1. Continually strive to clothe myself in joy, confidence, and grace. 2. Remember that more clothes only equates a bigger pile of dust when I leave this earth. 3. Give more than I buy. 4. Shop my closet more than any store. 5. Give thanks for the things I own.
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