While out for Mr. Tom’s b’day celebrations in central London, I was introduced to some of his friends.
One of them, aside from looking about 13, was thoroughly loathsome. Having not felt his name worth committing to memory, and given his foul nature, I nicknamed him The Goblin.
You know when you meet one of those people who seem to simply sneer their way through life?
Even more annoyingly, as we said goodbye The Goblin managed to spill red wine down my left arm, staining my trench coat and my Japanese shirt beneath.
Seeing the stains again this morning served to make me furious. I like to think I have a healthy relationship with anger. I believe that sometimes we should get angry. People need to know that they just can’t treat us in a certain way.
I think what made me even more angry was friends simply trying to dismiss it as “these things happen” type scenario.
The friends saying this, when I later thought about it, were all happily partnered. Come to think of it, even The Goblin was.
Which got me thinking. When we’re single, do special things replace that special someone?
I realised that when I’m single I dress differently. I take pleasure in alternative and bolder styles, and I like making more of a statement with clothes. Perhaps it’s to make up for the attention you don’t have from that other person. Perhaps it’s another way to inject some colour back into our physical lives, perhaps because some things in life can feel a little grey without a special person to share it all with.
Perhaps it’s the protective feeling we feel to that other person, projecting onto the material.
Perhaps it’s a combination of all those things.
But I realised I wasn’t just angry about this poisonous little specimen ruining the things I had bought and earned. I was furious.
With everything that’s been happening lately, I’ve been feeling anger a lot, and I try not to let it dominate and take over.
Clothes to me, like I imagine they are to many people, are a form of expression. I don’t shop avidly; I only splash out on things I feel connected to and truly want. When I’m getting dressed in the morning I love going to my closet and composing a look with what I have. It’s like painting to me, choosing colours which work and compliment each other while alternating the degree of style and statement.
Because I’ve been feeling lonely lately, clothes have been something of a solace for these reasons.
In a way, they embrace us and they act as a way for us to embrace being on our own.
Because when we’re on our own, we don’t dress for anyone else. We can be wholly and totally ourselves through exploring our own sense of style.
So when The Goblin carelessly spilt wine all over my precious clothing, neither of which was given to me for free I might add, he was really spilling his sneering attitude all over my personal pain and fear.
Which would explain my urge to through what was left of my wine straight into that ugly little face.
I’m sure one or more of my fiends, and probably other people as well, would argue that indulging in clothes to make up for not having a man is a shallow and materialistic reaction.
But although people say there is nothing harder than dressing to please a partner, when we’re single we’re dressing only for the most important person in our lives: ourselves.
And, really, dressing in the clothes we like and treasure makes maintaining that relationship just a little bit easier.