As I Dress…So I Am

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Am I terribly shallow or terribly deep? Either way, should I post a warning sign?

I ask this as a person who occasionally wears other people’s clothing. Some of it I have inherited, and putting it on makes me extremely happy – I remember the person from whom I inherited it. If I could live my life like my father did his, I should be proud. I’m just delighted that we share the same physique – I still fit in the 1960’s suits and shirts. The boots are a bit dodgy, but I suspect he probably fell over in the mud wearing them too – I think I will store them for…later.

Some of the things I wear are patterned off other eras – clothing that people wore a long time ago. I did not choose some of it – it was chosen for me by costumiers in my social club. Wearing it makes me part of the cast, and as long as I stay in the background in the crowd scenes I can be useful. At least you don’t see as much of the painted backdrop then.

The part that puzzles me is the things I have chosen myself – and in some cases paid large money for. The clothing is not perplexing – it is just cloth and buttons and leather straps – the motive is the part that stumps me. Who was I trying to be?

I’ve had a stab, and a successful one, at being a Napoleonic Scottish soldier…until I was warned off the fake highlands by a native. I tried on the personae of various other soldiers from America and France, and found that no-one cared…even me. Oh, the sellers of equipment probably cared, and were grateful that the credit card worked. I’ve tried to commemorate the American Revolution in a country that might occasionally also be revolting but never for the right reasons. And again eventually realised that no-one cares.

The Steampunk scene is apparently open to all comers, but is so infrequent around here as to suggest that it will not last. Fortunately I have all sorts of gear that has been pressed into service for the few occasions that offered and no real money was spent.

These musings are occasioned by the 1st of October – when I finish my employment and embark upon what I have euphemistically called “new adventures”. Most of them will not need a new persona or new clothing, but I am curious to see what I can make of the wardrobe in the future. The Russian sailor suit is tempting but limited, and I have yet to find a tavern or coffee house that will support the Dr. Johnson suit or mindset. I could probably do a nice Voltaire , if I were allowed access to a quill and a quire of paper.

Candide? Indeed!

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