My friend's surprise at the emotional nostalgia each piece held for me took me by surprise. The woven threads hold the stories and emotions of where why and each piece was bought, and the places it accompanied me on my body. The shock was so jarring to me that she may as well have been shocked that it was usual for people to wear pants rather than introducing the world to their genitals each day. That’s how normal my clothes map was to me.
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| Photo by Renata Fraga on Unsplash |
I met up with my friend recently-ish on a wintry morning, cold and the air was heavy with the threat of rain. Most probably eight years have passed since the brief clothes-map conversation in that damp room. We sat on stools which might have been a nice design if they had not been approximately the size of only one of my butt cheeks. The discomfort made me feel a bit uneasy, as though I was on the back foot, or left butt cheek. I had to make a decision, you see, and it turns out that the left butt cheek was that decision.
We were talking about music, my friend and I, which is something that adds so much meaning to her life. I love hearing someone talk about something that makes them tick, although sometimes I hear a little nagging voice pulling my barriers up against this strength of feeling that is alien to me. However, for the most part, I find it fascinating to hear what occupies their mind when it’s not filled with errands and the like. The empty space between. If Burke hadn’t been such an awful misogynist I might be inclined to think of this as the modern sublime. However, he was and is, therefore, a prick and so I am loathed to give any more brain cells to this line of thought.
Anyway, yes, I listened as she spoke about music and then heard myself say “I rarely listen to music. If I do, it’s the same song on repeat for, perhaps, a couple of months.” This didn’t really add much to the conversation and I feared I was saying it in that bit of an arsehole way that people gleefully position themselves as a popular culture outsider, boldly declaring ‘I’ve never seen Star Wars.’ My friend didn’t react as I thought, though. I was ready for a verbal tussle where we’d each site our opinions, only becoming more steadfast with time rather than engaging in anything more meaningful that actually resembled a conversation.
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| Photo by Mitch Lensink on Unsplash |
"That’s okay,” she said, not taking the bait. This is not what I was expecting. My butt cheek dilemma no longer bothered me, either, which is also not what I was expecting. I pushed it a bit more, exaggerating my stance further, seemingly missing the bit of unease that the butt cheek incident had introduced to my morning. She remained sure in her laid back position. She was confident in the essential nature of music in her life and didn’t need to join this head-butting competition.
“But it’s the same for you with aesthetics,” she said. And, with that, I felt a feeling of calm envelope me welcoming me back to home turf. Yes, aesthetics help me interpret the world and derive meaning from it. My visual language improves my life. This reminder from my dear friend helped me to see this and, along with aesthetics, helped me to understand the pull of something that I thought I could not.
It’s strange, isn’t it, that a brief conversation was split into two acts over the best part of a decade. And that it was quite so transformative. I wonder what I will realise next, eight years after the first lines have been uttered.