My Thoughts are in My Closet

I discovered a boutique nearby called "Chez Moi". I am literal. This jewel box is in my bedroom closet. Contained and unknown to the outside world, an array of one woman's psychological profile is hidden behind the meaning of her questionable choice of clothing. Women buy things believing this is who we are or hope we are to become. You only need to look into the female psyche at the time of offense to determine her mental and emotional state. Let us examine some of these crimes, shall we?

Item: A white Gianfranco Ferre shirt with exaggerated French cuffs and collar as high as the Eiffel Tower with slashed sleeves from shoulder to wrist. Maybe the seamstress forgot to sew the seams or perhaps Signor Ferre was watching reruns of The Incredible Hulk while envisioning women ripping out of their clothing while raging after work, husband, kids and injustice. This shirt is excessively sexy for work because of the revealing arm and it should not be worn while eating. Essentially, it is a big white bib waiting for a spaghetti spill to happen. State of mind: Probably entering work force with subconscious resentment of a 'real job' and wanted to rebel hence creating drama in a traditionally otherwise boring work place. Thought I could dazzle co-workers once I remove my so very serious dark suit and then, wham bam...the shazam shirt! Think of Chippendale with Velcro pants! With one swoop, the crowd cheers. (In my dream, I get a raise)
Item: Many shoes doubling as walking Christmas ornaments. Flamboyant and loud. Walking object d’art. Eye candy on feet. A Christian Lacroix with heels resembling a stack of mothballs. One size too small. Looks count. Pain doesn't. A black and white stripe Dolce e Gabbana sling with a real cameo brooch, a Baroque masterpiece for I have yet to find a glass case. An ordinary shoebox would be like Marie Antoinette living in a condo. Unthinkable. Countless novelty shoes blinged out: Leather stiletto with real spinning spurs on heel. (Double as a weapon when on a blind date and sexy cowgirl prop in bedroom with the blind date) There are also furry shoes (animal feet) and sequined shoes (happy feet). I have a pair of wooden Geta sandal. (Never know when I might have to perform a tea ceremony) State of mind: Probably bad hair day, bloating and breakouts. Translation: Don't look at me, look at my feet!
Item: A cropped rabbit fur jacket purchased in Italy during a winter vacation with available fruit loop colors in yellow, orange, lime, and fuchsia. I looked like Big Bird's little sister. I went for yellow. State of mind: I was freezing cold. I'm an American. With the long hair and outrageous color, I might for one fleeting second thought I looked hot like a rock star. That or I was reverting to childhood when I once owned a lovely chocolate colored rabbit fur coat. I have been called out as “rich bitch” while adorning this little luscious fur ball of love. I thought I could still look “rich”. I was disillusioned though. It does not even have lining. I was wearing dead dyed animal skin. Did I mention I was cold? State of mind:Decreased air temperature effects sound judgment of the mind. After paying $99 bucks, I was still cold.
Item: A Jean-Charles de Castelbaljac white palazzo pants with one leg entirely an illustration of Jack and Jill. I am a walking one-legged mural. State of mind: no idea. It was probably summer. Increased air temperature effects sound judgment of the mind.
Item: A strapless Christian Lacroix couture ball gown in pink and lavender with layers of puff, lace and more fluff and stuff. I am a human triple scoop of bubble gum ice cream. This could be a dress worn by a B list actress on the cover of People Magazine's Worse Dressed with the caption "when bad dress happens to good people". State of mind: possible to purchase a princess piece at pauper's price. Shouldn’t all women own a ball gown just in case?
Item: A delicious red Karl Lagerfeld beaver sleeveless shrug. Tiny little piece of article like the size of a kitchen hand towel. It fastens in the front. Looks like lingerie that Conan the Barbarian would give to his cavewoman for Valentine: furry chest bra plate. Quite useless except it feels good to the touch. I like fur. I like red. State of mind: I like fur. I like red.
Item: An Angelo Tarlazzi white coat covered entirely with glass diamonds the size of giant Indonesian cockroaches. I am a walking disco ball. I am performance art. State of mind: Look at me! I am as bright and dazzling as the sun and moon. I am Miss Universe. I give thee light.

It occurred to me that worse clothing choices were always white. White is the representation of all colors. However, the human eye interprets as an absence of color like an empty sheet of paper. Unbeknownst to me, I may have been creating the characters of who I wish to become. If I can somehow remove all that jazz, I can really use the blank canvas to paint a genuine self-portrait, instead of hiding behind a facade of embellishments, abstract art and mostly... a skin that is not mine.