What I am Wearing
I am sitting in a cushioned chair in the library right now, and feel the odd desire to describe everything that I am wearing. Although this is not really on the same topic as my usual posts, I think it will be an enjoyable exercise in writing. For lack of a better order, I will start at the top and work my way down.
My hat was knit by my older sister and given to me as a Christmas gift a few years ago. It is made of a synthetic yarn, for easier care than wool, and is brown and dark turquoise in color. I have the front rolled up to expose a tuft of hair above my forehead. Draped over my neck is a black fleece scarf which I found on my run today. After picking it up from the ground where it had been abandoned, I took it home, hand washed it in the sink, and then let it drip-dry in the shower first and then air-dried it in the sun, hanging from the curtain rod, in my living room. It is plain, solid colored with simple yarn-like tassels on the ends.
On my torso, I am wearing the lightest down jacket that money can buy—at least it was when I bought it for my hike on the Pacific Crest Trail in 2008. It weights 5.7 ounces, or was it 6.3? I can’t quite remember. Either way, it was a carefully optimized piece of gear and now just another part of my daily wardrobe. Only a pockmark burned into the sleeve by a stray spark from a campfire betrays its former life in backcountry to an astute observer. Underneath, I am wearing a tie-dye “Casa de Luna” t-shirt. It is red and blue dye on a plain white shirt with words and a banana moon printed on the front.
My black leather belt is the same one I’ve been wearing since 1997. I had received a cashmere sweater that year for Christmas from my grandparents which I felt did not suit me at all. I returned it, and with the credit, bought a white canvas jacket (which also did not suit me at all), a money clip, and the fore mentioned belt. The other two items are long gone, but I still wear this belt nearly every single day. I purchased the pants I am wearing for a trip to Chile last year. They are tan, and made out of fast drying nylon—the perfect material for air drying. My boxers are patterned with tents, little campfires, and roasting marshmallows—the marshmallows aren’t anywhere near the campfires, so I guess that just makes them marshmallows on a stick, but I think the roasting is implied. These were re-gifted from my brother-in-law to me one Christmas—one of those odd family tradition things that seems to happen every year; he gets boxers which he doesn’t want, and then gives them to me. They are generally the second-to-last boxers that I wear before doing laundry—the last naturally being the ones with the hearts.
My socks, left over from my last long distance hike, are Woolie Boolies—I think named for the silly 60’s song with a similar sounding, although differently spelled, name. According to the manufacturer they are: “…of superior construction and the finest Merino wool … an ideal sock for athletic adventures in a wide range of temperatures and terrain,” which sounds too good to be true, but in my experience they more than live up to their billing. Finally, I am wearing Brooks running shoes with Montrail inserts, bought after my most recent hike—as is my habit after each long hike—as a present to my feet for having carried me over 2,000 miles last summer.
That is what I am wearing today. Each item of clothing has a story, a bit of history.
