There is an innate sense of secrecy in dressing I find interesting.

Most women like to get together and get dressed. I associate this with the strange void most humans have inside of them which is filled by group dynamics: I don’t want to look too different from everyone else-what are you wearing? Indeed, I myself always need to know what the dress code is when I attend an event and I’m prone to taking someone with me when I go to the ladies room. God forbid I’m seen walking ALONE to the bathroom; someone might think I, the bastion of imposed perfection, pee! Heavens, no.

I dislike dressing in front of others. Not because I feel uncomfortable being nude or scantily dressed; but because an outfit does not become a “look” under the prying eyes of others. It needs only the watchful eyes of its skeleton, its hanger, to become its true self. From a pile of rags to a belted gown, or whatever it is you’re attempting.

Under the eyes of others, clothing and jewels shirk and hide, averting themselves and therefore your thoughts into a strange, chaotic pool of inanity. “Oh cute, are you wearing that with a scarf?” “Where’d you get that? I want one.” “Meh, I don’t like that skirt. Will you zip me up?” Too much conversation and too few inner thoughts-it applies to the world, but also the closet.

I hate getting dressed with others.