Friday, July 8, 2011

So Kristy over at One Dress Protest has just listed a bunch of questions for people who did the ODP experiment for a month.  Because I'm lazy today (and annoyed that someone took my clothes from the dryer before they were dry, and I had to rig up a clothes line in my bedroom and now feel entitled to being lazy), questions and answers are separate.
  1. What was the primary reason you felt compelled to ODP?
  2. Did you feel that ODP allowed you to address and engage your initial reasons for joining?
  3. Did anything surface that you didn’t anticipate as you ODP’d?
  4. Care to share any reactions from others?
  5. How did ODP affect your experience of yourself in a public setting? Did it challenge/boost your self-confidence? In what ways? In what circumstances?
  6. How did ODP affect your experience of yourself privately?
  7. Did you find it logistically challenging (i.e. laundry wise)?
  8. Did you find it exceptionally restrictive or freeing?
  9. How do you think this influenced your approach to future clothing consumption?
  10. Any thing else to share?
1. Honestly, I jumped on it as a "reason" or "excuse" to try wearing something different.  I'd been wanting to experiement with Plain dress for some time, and it seemed easier to jump on the ODP bandwagon than to do it on my own.  If people asked for my reasons, I could say it was a blogger's challenge or something like that, without having to make them understand my pretty fuzzy reasons.

2. A few people asked me during or after the experiment if I were Amish, or Mennonite, or Quaker.  These have all been known as Plain people.  To me, this sort of signaled that I was on the right track. 

3.  I didn't anticipate being so annoyed with my belt.  I also didn't expect that the *style* of my dress would surpass onedressness as a source of worry.  My month ended up being less about wearing the same dress every day and more about wearing a weird dress at all.

4.  Notable: "So that's what you're wearing these days?"  "Just so you know, people have been wondering if you were Amish, with the dress, and the head thing [bandana]."  "In case you don't realize, I'm giving you an opening to talk more about your dress."  "Did you make your dress?  It's awesome!"  "I know you've been wearing that [dirty work outfit, one of my dress exceptions] since you arrived [3 1/2 weeks], but I want to say I really like that outfit!"

5.  I moved in with a bunch of hippies.  In many ways, my dress fit in.  I wasn't the only one wearing weird stuff, or wearing the same thing every day.  Sometimes that was nice.  Sometimes I enjoyed thinking that new people meeting me were assuming all sorts of things about me and my dress.  Prideful in a way.  Sometimes I liked having my own "brand" that people might know me by.  And sometimes I fiddled with my belt and the fit a lot.  I wanted people to see me as attractive.

6.  Many Plain and Modest people have different standards in public and in private, or among family/same sex versus strangers/different sex.  Since I wore my dress in private too, as much for me as for anyone else, it felt like a special gift to myself.  A kind of a secret.  It felt like me.  But an extension of that feeling is that it feels weird to put other clothes on now.  Like they aren't me.  As if I am what I wear...

7. I share laundry facilities (two washers, a dryer, a clotheslines) with maybe thirty other people AND with the community laundry (sheets, work clothes, all that).  So I couldn't just wash my clothes whenever I felt like it.  Actually, the drying was the problem.  Hand wash, OK, but I don't know if my things will dry overnight on the line, or if it will rain today, or if the dryer will be free when I have an hour, or if all of this corresponds to when my clothes actually need washing.  I feel like it should have been much easier for most people.  Was it?

8.  No, neither.  Just easy.

9. Well, I've already been trying to reduce what I have.  I've already cut out most things that are extremely occasion-specific.  I still have struggled with browsing at Goodwill and buying clothes I don't need (though sometimes I do need what I buy there, like jeans).  I don't buy many clothes.  And now I have zero clothing budget and a source of free clothes for lending.  I probably won't be buying any clothes.    And I feel like all of that information has to be stated, because it's happening simultaneously with ODP, and it’s hard to discern the impact from ODP.  Did it change my views, strengthen them, or merely confirm what was already there?  I think I did learn this: It’s worth it to have clothes that fit, look good, suit a majority of situations, last a long time, and are easy to take care of.  If they don’t fit those criteria, they’re not worth the materials and energy that went into making them.

10. I might shorten this dress, give it a waist, or make thin, permanent ties.  I really love the fabric and the color.  It makes a great nightgown and cover to and from the shower.  It’s fun to wear long, tied with an empire waist.  I like my dress.  It’s special to me.  I will probably wear it, and patch it, and wear it out, and cut it down to make new things.

Whew!  That's that.  More reflections later.

2 comments:

  1. Brittany,
    The point you made in #9 really resonated with me:

    "It’s worth it to have clothes that fit, look good, suit a majority of situations, last a long time, and are easy to take care of. If they don’t fit those criteria, they’re not worth the materials and energy that went into making them."

    I frequently waver between your succinct expression and salivating over beautiful fashion items, which I would consider works of art. These are clothes that WON'T fit me (well), won't suit most situations, or last long or are easy to care for. Why do I still like looking at them?

    I think I've worked out that they're like clothing porn. I'll never shop for or wear them, but I like to fantasise about wearing/owning them!

    Your answers to Kristy's questions were very honest and thought-provoking. Congratulations!

    ReplyDelete