Hidden Agendas

I'm a girl who grew up on hand-me-downs and thrift store clothes. My attitude towards clothing was always purely functional; as long as an item is not stained (though you can always try bleaching it) or torn (though you can always sew it back together) or no longer fits (but don't be too fussy about it), it will continue to be worn. This was learned from Mom of course -- she who still wears her old maternity clothes that still fit her. (Shudder.)

I'm slowly growing out of my excessively-frugal clothing habits. I realized in college that I could get rid of clothes just because I had grown to hate them and/or the way they looked on me. I realized after graduation that I don't have to buy everything at the thrift store, that I am not a shallow and materialistic person if I buy myself something new. (The most amazing thing about shopping for clothes new instead of used? If you try on something that doesn't fit, there is probably another one just like it on the rack, but in a different size! Freaky!)

I still have a little trouble reasoning with my penny-pinching self when I need some new clothes. Today I went to the Payhalf for some fall clothing, and my inner Second Hand Rose was hollering, "Can't you wait to find something at The Brown Elephant?" (Apparently, even shopping at Payhalf is splurging.) Once in the store, I was immediately aware of the fashionability of me versus the other shoppers: Those people look hip, while I'm wearing an out-of-good-clothes, must-do-laundry outfit. But I kept a good attitude: I will pick up some nice things that will look nice on me and I will feel good about leaving the house wearing them.

But suddenly, unforeseen trauma! Hidden agendas in sizes S, M, and L! I was looking at a cute pair of chocolate-brown cords that looked like they would be nice to my hips, and after I had slung a pair over my arm, I noticed they are from Jessica Simpson's line of clothing! Ugh! (I am sick to death of the aggressive pro-Jessica Simpson agenda in this country!) I just want a comfortable pair of pants that will get by the dress code at work, I don't want to form an alliance with an entertainment industry nuisance. For a lack of non-celebrity-endorsed corduroys in a dark color, I bought them. I feel a bit unclean.

Then I picked out one of those bell-sleeved, empire-waisted shirts that I see everywhere and which I've been anxious to try out. It has one of those John 3:16 labels sewn at the nape of the neck. Come on, now! Jesus cannot possibly have a favorite line of clothing! Immediately my brain identified the worst-case scenario, that if I buy this shirt, I will be funding some evil "Christian" organization that bombs Planned Parenthood buildings and pickets gay funerals. For lack of information from an internet search on "Janette" apparel, I'm going to say that my shirt will not kill anyone or destroy contraceptives or upset a grieving family.

When I paid for my mini-wardrobe ($125 dollars for two pairs of pants, two shirts, and a jacket! Oh, the spending!), the cashier enthusiastically informed me that these aren't just any pants, they're Jessica Simpson pants! Isn't that great? She bought herself the same pair!