The Little Brown Dress
Check it out before you continue reading, otherwise you'll have no idea what i am taking about for the rest of this post. i can give you a brief synopsis, but it won't be the same. a woman decides to make and wear only one brown dress for 365 days. she adds on sweaters or layers as needed, but the core of the outfit is only the brown dress. she maintains that most of her co-workers did not even notice that she was wearing the same dress day after day (asserting that our own self-absorbed-ness prevents us from seeing other people.) the whole experiment can be summed up by her saying, " made one small, personal attempt to confront consumerism by refusing to change my dress for 365 days." (Alex Martin)
now, i was expecting to see one dress, 365 times. but she spruces up her outfit daily (in nice traditional granola wear), to the point that i now understand why she said that her colleagues did not even notice that she was duplicating her outfit. now, the woman seems to be some kind of creative force, also transforming this experiment into a dance. the whole experiment seems intriguing to me: the idea that we are not what we wear, no matter how hard i'd like to justify the goodness of what not to wear. i think it also fits perfectly into our national tendency to over-produce and over-use. not only did wearing, gasp, one article of clothing not stifle the spirit of this woman, it inspired her.
when i was in grade 12, our high school decided to embark on the path of uniforms. active in student government, i have to admit, i was prepared to put all my student influence towards rejecting the uniform (or clothing simply existing to turn us into clones, whatever you'd like to call it.) and i wasn't the one you'd think would protest: i was overweight, friends with the artsy types (who have all turned out to be wonderful interesting people, just like they were then), and heck, i was on student council. i was the poster girl of why there should be uniforms. but i hated the very idea of them. but that hate lasted about one second after my mom bought me mine. not only could i roll over and practically be dressed, i also looked like everyone else. and because everyone looked the same, all of a sudden, people had to listen to what other people said to distinguish them. i don't really have to words to describe this process. was it because we were teenagers? because we didn't really know who we were yet (but do we now?)? did clothes really make for class disctinctions? i don't know. but i do remember a vastly different environment when we did have uniforms. one that i was quite thankful for. and i do remember that people words meant more than they had mattered before.
now, ms. martin isn't promoting uniforms by any means. i would hate to put words in her mouth. but, i still like the message. and i think the message is rather pertinent to us, overconsumers and mass wasters, and that we should listen.
now, i was expecting to see one dress, 365 times. but she spruces up her outfit daily (in nice traditional granola wear), to the point that i now understand why she said that her colleagues did not even notice that she was duplicating her outfit. now, the woman seems to be some kind of creative force, also transforming this experiment into a dance. the whole experiment seems intriguing to me: the idea that we are not what we wear, no matter how hard i'd like to justify the goodness of what not to wear. i think it also fits perfectly into our national tendency to over-produce and over-use. not only did wearing, gasp, one article of clothing not stifle the spirit of this woman, it inspired her.
when i was in grade 12, our high school decided to embark on the path of uniforms. active in student government, i have to admit, i was prepared to put all my student influence towards rejecting the uniform (or clothing simply existing to turn us into clones, whatever you'd like to call it.) and i wasn't the one you'd think would protest: i was overweight, friends with the artsy types (who have all turned out to be wonderful interesting people, just like they were then), and heck, i was on student council. i was the poster girl of why there should be uniforms. but i hated the very idea of them. but that hate lasted about one second after my mom bought me mine. not only could i roll over and practically be dressed, i also looked like everyone else. and because everyone looked the same, all of a sudden, people had to listen to what other people said to distinguish them. i don't really have to words to describe this process. was it because we were teenagers? because we didn't really know who we were yet (but do we now?)? did clothes really make for class disctinctions? i don't know. but i do remember a vastly different environment when we did have uniforms. one that i was quite thankful for. and i do remember that people words meant more than they had mattered before.
now, ms. martin isn't promoting uniforms by any means. i would hate to put words in her mouth. but, i still like the message. and i think the message is rather pertinent to us, overconsumers and mass wasters, and that we should listen.
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