two cents on fashion sense

A relatively recent development in my life has been the discovery that I have a decent fashion sense. I know what you’re thinking, ‘a pansexual teen with a fashion sense, I never would have guessed.’ But honestly, I never really thought about the way I dressed. In high school, everyone wore school uniforms and, because my family were too poor to afford a new one for me every year, mine was usually inappropriately sized. People didn’t make fun of me or anything (not for that, anyway), but I was never able to express myself in the way I dressed. That all changed when I started going to college. I actually lost count of how many times people complimented me because of my clothes in the first week. It was a breath of fresh air. That was when I first realized that the clothes I wore made me unique.

Buying designer clothes is a bit like buying a burger at McDonald’s. You know it’s not going to look the same as it does in the ads; it’s not going to look as big in all the right places, not everybody’s going to want a piece of you, and in the end you feel a little bit sick. But, it fills a hole. That hole might be metaphorical or it might be, in the case of the hamburger, literal, but you feel slightly less empty inside and that’s all that matters.

Hamburger analogies aside, I’m not big on designer clothes. Not just because of my aforementioned financial situation, but most of the time reasonably priced clothes get the job done just fine. I frequently go clothes shopping with some of my more… financially endowed friends; mainly because they value my opinion and know that I don’t hold back when it comes to brutal honesty. I’ve learned that a brief discussion over the appropriateness of an article of clothing can be avoided entirely by simply displaying a pained expression when shown said article. Their smile will quickly fade and they will look disheartened as they place it back. I feel a little bad, but it’s a necessary evil to save five minutes of my life. Anyway, shopping with my friends is usually the only opportunity I get to browse designer clothing, and it’s lead me to form some pretty strong opinions.

Shopping at a designer clothes store is pretty much the same as shopping in a normal clothes store except the hangers are better, the staff are more attractive and you don’t have to wade through piles of crap to get to the good stuff. Also, you pay ten times the price and either way the stuff looks better on the rack than it does on you.

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Harry hails from Ireland, a strange and fantastical corner of the globe. He uses his dark and edgy humor to weave a tale that gives you a glimpse into the life of a pansexual, rish teenager.