two

"Frank concentrated on his head, which felt marginally warmer, because of the hat. Good hat: flat cap, proper tweed and not inexpensive. A man should have a hat, in his opinion. Beyond a certain age it will suit him and give him weight, become a welcome addition to his face, almost a trademark. People will look at his hat as it hangs on the back of a chair, or a coat hook, or rests on the edge of his desk, and they will involuntarily assume- Frank's here, then. That's his hat. Frank's old, familiar hat. Through time, there will be a small transfer of emotion and people who are fond of him will also like his hat, will see something in it: a sense of his atmosphere, his style- and they'll be pleased."

When i was in high school, i had a very distinctive coat. It was cream, and hooded, and sort of squidgy, and it became a descriptive factor: "You know Ellie? The tall girl with the long cream coat?". Now, i'm not sure it reached the level of positive association and emotional transfer- hopefully more to do with the fact that i only wore it for one autumn/winter, rather than noone being 'fond' of me- but nonetheless, the coat was a mark of my presence. Thinking back, this is likely because it was so GODDAMN UGLY that noone else would have wanted to wear it.... Anyway, apart from that, I don't know if i've ever worn anything so frequently, loved one or two items so much, that they become a part of my very character. It may seem silly, but this strikes me as sad: firstly, because it reminds me that i own far too much stuff, and lots of these things i love fleetingly, before getting distracted by something newer and more shiny. Secondly, because I love the idea that random objects can absorb little bits of humanness- that a hat can belong to somebody not because they have a receipt for it, but because people think of them when they see it- and i kinda want in on that.

I know the having-lots-of-junk can be explained partly by style preferences changing over time (thank god i grew out of wearing jeans baggy enough to house the the entire population of Wales) and partly by the dispostion I have towards hoarding (am i part squirrel? do i need these thing to help me survive through the cold winter months? am i hoping that one day tammygirl clothing will be hyper-expensive vintage?) but really, i think the main cause is my weakness for mindless buying. The problem is worsened by my fierce love of charity shops: when charity shopping, there is always an element of "but wait! if i don't buy this shoulder padded, black and gold, polka-dotted, glittery 1980s crop-top right now, someone else will soon, and it will BE GONE FOREVER FOOOOOOOOREEEEEEEVVVVVVERRRRRR". And yes, that is an accurate description of one of my purchases. My friend L was caught somewhere between laughter and heart attack upon seeing it. I don't think i ever wore it out, and before long it was sent back to the land of charityshop. It's buying like this, speedily, greedily, feverishly, that prevents any kind of association between me and the things i own. And i think we should have a relationship with our possessions; not in a save-them-before-your-family-in-a-housefire-situation kind of way, but in a hey-i-really-appreciate-that-i-have-the-means-to-buy-this-and-i-use-it-alot-and-it-is-useful way.

The paragraph i've quoted made me jealous, not because i want to be instantly recognisable to everyone through my unique headgear, but because i don't want to own so much that it's all anonymous. And with that, the realisation that i have bad shopping habits. Well, if ever there's a totally arbitrary time to change, it's the start of January. Maybe i should also think on addressing my abuse of the hyphen...




p.s. the quotation is taken from A L Kennedy's Frank, in The Book of Other People. It's a lovely, lovely book. Twenty three short stories, all by different authors given the same task: 'to make someone up'. My totally in depth and critical review would be: it's amazing and wonderful and read it.

p.p.s. people should wear hats more, right?