Nothing to Wear

“Ughhhhhrhrhghghghg!!! What am I gonna WEAR?!”

“I wore that same blouse last week, I can’t wear it again.”

“Is this dress too spring-y, or can I pull it off with tights and boots? Are these boots too winter-y?”

“No, those are always my go-to nice dressy pants.  I seriously don’t have another pair?!”

These are just a few of the many thinking errors that plague my brain as I stand in front of my (full) closet, saying, “I have nothing to wear.”
And the sad part? I’m not even stressing about what to wear to work, or to a birthday party, or a formal occasion.

I’m stressing about what to wear to church.

CHURCH, of all places.  The place I’m supposed to feel safe and accepted.  And here I am, acting like I’m about to hit the runway at a fashion show, judged for the way my clothes flatter my body.

Now hold it right there, because I don’t think the people in my congregation are out to get me, or shame me for my lack of trendiness. But, in a setting where so many strive to look their best, I do see lots of trends and “fashion”.

I find it interesting that we can’t all just wear plain jeans and plain t-shirts to church.  And the people who do, why are those individuals seen as “casual” or “young” or “relaxed” or, my favorite, “more MODERN”?
Why do we categorize people according to what they wear?  We all do it. Those in heels and fancy coats are labeled “girly” or “conservative” or “traditional”.
(Yes, I think this is definitely an area that women have more experience and trouble with.)

I’ve been on two mission trips to foreign countries thus far: Bolivia and Grenada.  Each of these countries had their own unique customs, including dress.  But I didn’t feel pressured to look or dress a certain way, and I didn’t see anything other than God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit be the focus of their gathering.  Not once in either of these two countries did someone greet me with, “Oh, you look so cute today!”
It’s just interesting to me that this is the first thing out of our mouths so often here in our privileged society.

I suppose it’s nice and considered good manners to acknowledge when someone puts a little extra time into their appearance that morning, and I’m not saying it doesn’t feel good when I do get a compliment.
But do I wish I didn’t care? Yeah, I do.  I wish I could wear my black t-shirt, jeans, and running shoes to church every week, and not have a care in the world.  

I can’t help but think of all these countries out there, some whose names we don’t even know, where there are small churches in the jungle somewhere, where attendees worship and dance around barefoot, in the same clothes they’ve worn all week, their neighbor not knowing any different because they’re wearing their only set of clothes as well.  I want to be that free.

Twice now this year, I’ve challenged myself to wear only 7 items of clothing, for a week straight. (I was inspired by the book “7” by Jen Hatmaker)

 I narrowed it down to: a black t-shirt, one pair of jeans, one pair of running shoes, a set of workout shorts and t-shirt, and pajamas.

I’ve learned that people don’t pay nearly as much attention as I think they do, at church, work, or anywhere else, but I’ve also learned that dress still matters to me.  I’ve figured out that when I have a “spare coat closet” holding all my dresses, both casual and formal, plus any out-of-season cardigans or sweaters; and also a coat closet in my living room holding my actual coats and hoodies----this may mean I have too much.  
I’ve never considered myself to have a clothing problem, but when I think about the children in my city who wear the same pair of jeans for weeks on end without washing them, I feel my contribution to the injustice.  We see obvious needs like food and shelter, but do we stop to think about the insecurity being developed inside the child who wears the same outfits on repeat each week, while watching their classmate Little Suzy wear a brand-new outfit or pair of shoes once a week?* When did the gap grow so large? (And why do Suzy’s parents feel the need to buy her so many new things all the time?)

If I do research on the countries printed on the tags of my clothing, what would I find out? As Jen Hatmaker has paraphrased from a different author, “Am I wearing someone else’s despair?”  What is the story of the person who slaved away to create my dress?

I do buy 99.9% of my clothing second-hand, so I try really hard not to feed the machine.

But if I can find a way to eloquently state that the image we create for ourselves has very little to do with our clothing, and much more with the way we give and show love to others, then maybe someone out there will quit spending thousands of dollars a year on clothes and put it towards a more worthy cause.

Because I don’t care what anybody says, we are not contributing to ourselves or our wellbeing by putting expensive clothes on our bodies. We’re just making it okay for the commercial industry to tell us what we need in order to be accepted.** Let’s all realize that we have bigger fish to fry.










*Of course, I am for teaching our kids that even if they do wear the same outfit on repeat, they still have worth.  But are insecurity, and comparison, and anxiety real things? Yes, they are. Are kids blind to privilege and brand-name clothing? No, they're not.
** Yes, some of this is difficult or awkward for me to think and say, as someone who has ventured into the modeling industry in the past.