What if my dog ate all of your clothes?
This does relate to clothing, so bear with me. There’s a blue pottery French bulldog on my kitchen bench (thank you Tarjay). It’s one of those jars you’re supposed to keep cookies in. I don’t eat cookies or biscuits (as they are called in New Zealand). So I keep it full of dog treats instead. My French bulldog knows that after dinner, she gets her Greenie. She will sit there, look at the treat jar, look at me, look at the treat jar, look at me. She knows that I know what to do. Sure enough, I reach into the French bulldog cookie jar and pull out a treat for her. Good Erin! Occasionally, it’s empty. She will wait patiently because, again, she knows I know what to do. I will go to the cupboard, I will open it up, I will bring out a new box of dog treats (I’m the kind of person who doesn’t run out of things). What has this got to do with clothing?? As I watched her devour her treat, I remembered the “my dog ate my homework, ” trope. What if the dog ate ALL my clothing? I would know what to do. Good Erin! Because I know my Style Statement, my measurements (no such thing as wrong bodies, just wrong clothing), what kind of clothing I like, what kind of clothing I’d need and where to get it. I could replace my wardrobe easy peasy. Yes, I have insurance, but I could also create a perfectly delightful closet from a thrift store. I’d be okay. That’s not to say that I don’t love my clothes. I adore my clothes. I cherish my clothes. I love every single item. Each piece aligns with my Style Statement. Sometimes I lay them on the ground and roll around in them. I look fabulous in them. I feel great when I wear them. They make me happy. They make my heart sing. I can create outfits in a moment’s notice. Feel free to (virtually) throw something at me. Knowing my own Style Statement means that I have complete clarity. I also have the skills. Which are easy to teach, by the way. I would take the insurance money, and I would go out there and find incredible, amazing, wonderful pieces to replace them all. Actually, it sounds kind of fun. Here doggy! Just to keep “flexing,” (is that still a thing? Someone ask a 13-year-old). I know what suits me. I know what I look good in. I know what I value. I know what’s important to me. I know how to combine outfits. And I can choose items quickly and easily. And yes, I can share that with you. So you know what, I’d be okay. And I’d have enormous fun refilling that wardrobe. If you would like to learn any of these skills, or you just want to talk about what you’d do if your clothing ended up in space much like a red convertible…reach out. You are also welcome to borrow my dog. Aroha, Erin