You are not your f#cking khakis. In fact, you’re not anything in that closet.


As I prepare to move, I’m taking an inventory of my stuff, and I’ve spent some time in front of my closet. It’s my self-imposed purging time. Will these slacks make the cut and come with me? I hold it in my hand for a minute, then lay it down, undecided. Then I stare at a shirt, and put it in the trash pile. A minute later, I pick it up, thinking again. Life is ticking me by, and I’m deciding on what I’m going to carry around with me, so I can spend more of my mornings debating which pants are really going to make my day.

My wardrobe has been my armor. It pumps my spirits. My identity was in that microfiber shirt. Those fashionably marked up jeans. The hipster button-down. The time I spent on what I would wear may be much less than most people, but it was more than is necessary for someone who wants to just live his life.

An actor has a wardrobe. Are we actors?

Actors follow the script and have left nothing to chance.

No, we are not actors.

With a strong enough identity, your wardrobe becomes secondary to your personality

It’s time I start being more comfortable in my own skin. They say the clothes make the man. I say how you wear something makes it or breaks it. Who you are will overwhelm everything, because people may be attracted to appearances, but a dynamic and engaging personality will almost always win in the end.

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