You can never talk about clothes too much

One time I was in a weird mood, and I grabbed my sister's shirt and wore it to school. It was red. Like half a dozen people commented that I wasn't wearing black. Jackie asked if I was okay. Black shirt, jeans, Chucks - that's my national costume. My idea of switching things up is to wear flip flops in the summer, or a jeans skirt in the spring. In the winter, black sweater. I only wear my other clothes for work or to fancy things like at Josh's house. There are black tanks for cleaning or going to school in, and nicer (non-faded) black tanks for going out at night.

I think my national costume is going to have to change this summer. Alex is trying to bribe me into letting her wear some of the shirts Laurie got me for under the suit jackets. She squeals out, "Cap sleeves!" "Cowl neck!" and claps her hands together. It's not going to happen. These are for work, not for dressing up at school. Never mind that we're different sizes. Never mind that she doesn't need any fancy clothes.

Al is five thousand times more into clothing than I am. She pours over Vogue monthly. Not even Teen Vogue, but the grownup one. You can tell when she's been at the library pouring over a Vogue because Alex comes home floaty and smiley. I almost feel bad for her that she never has any reason (or any money) to dress up on a regular basis.

For now Alex has to console herself with rearranging the stuff Laurie got me, and being allowed to pick out my outfits. It bothers her that I don't appreciate them the way she does. It bothers her that I am relieved to put back on my tank top and jeans. I almost feel sorry for her. Except then I don't.