An Open Letter to White Clothing
Dear White Clothing,
Why do you tempt me so? Although I wear you all year long, you are especially popular in summer. I can’t seem to get you off my mind. You look so good as a crisp button down shirt. You look dashing as a waist coat on a man in a light linen suit. You even look good as a golf hat (and I dislike most golf “fashion”. Why is there so much expense for so little style?). Do you know what doesn’t look good on you, my colourless friend? My lunch. How it dove off my plate and splatted onto my blouse must be one of life’s true unsolvable mysteries. It also doesn’t look so good with the seemingly inescapable dirty car smudge I get when wiggling in and out of the hot leather seats in the summer heat. I understand that I shouldn’t get so close to the exterior but it’s a difficult task considering the amount of bags I lug around. Shall I carry less bags? How dare you even suggest it, white skinny jeans?
You also tempt me with lovely, sunflower-field-running-appropriate dress options. I saw a friend of yours the other day and my heart skipped a beat. She was organic cotton fully equipped with flattering draping that could make even the most stationary gal at a party dance like it was 1999. The infatuated wearer would have to sway just to see the gloriousness of said dress in motion cascading off her shimming body. I would purchase her, really I would, but I can’t take her to any of the five weddings I have this summer. Apparently there is a faux pas in place should one wear white to wedding if not the bride. Boo. Something about a bride getting a bit ‘zilla and claiming white for themselves that day. Total colour territory takeover if you ask me.
Reserved not only for formal occasions, your causal friends are equally delightful. For instance you look so fresh as a tank top paired with denim at a baseball game or backyard BBQ. My collection of high-waist skirts love being around you but you make it very hard sometimes. Do you have sauce attracting fibres sewn into you? I could swear that you do, and if so, you should look into monetizing that technology in a less frustrating application.
It’s not only external factors that are keeping us from being together like I want us to. You tend to fight me internally, too. To clarify, I am referring to my biology. Why you are picking fights with my armpits is beyond me. Don’t you think they have it tough enough as it is? I think we can all agree it’s not the most celebrated body part. Now they have to deal with your constant changing ways. I want you two to get along but you insist on marking territory and staining the relationship. I think you are an uncooperative attention-seeking jerk. It’s like you’re purposely creating a scene every time you come into contact with an underarm.
I may underestimate the long game you are playing. It’s not like I can just eliminate you from my life. You’re always going to be there. A wardrobe without white clothing is like a magazine article with no white space. You help everything else around it flourish. You find ways to make sure I buy you again and again. I keep coming back for more like a sucker. Is that what the staining is all about? Is it your sick little game that prevents me from getting over you?
Fine. Play it your way. Maybe I’ll do the worst thing imaginable: buy you and then never wear you. It’s the ultimate form of fashion cruelty. Buy so no one else can and then keep you locked away in my closet… forever.
Oh, please forgive me. I don’t know what I was saying. I was rash and foolish. I love you. I do. Apology accepted?
Good, I’m glad that’s settled. We really are good together, aren’t we? It' such a lovely day. Do you want to grab an ice cream cone with me and my crème white cuffed trousers?