I wear black on black on black, and then, if I’m feeling adventurous, more black.

I only wear black clothing. Okay, occasionally a garment will have white/grey stripes or something, but 99% of the time, it’s straight black.

Over the least year to year and a half, there has been a lot of speculation as to why I do this. Folks have assumed that I hate all colors, that it’s an act of cultural rebellion, etc.

On one of the four times I wore color (yes, four times in 1.5 years – not counting a neutral tan cardigan I occasionally wore for like two months), a woman who never speaks to me approached me to say something like: “You look good in green. This is your color, not black. It’s time to stop grieving.”

I literally died laughing that day.

*Literally was herein used for sardonic affect rather than for its actual meaning.

Here’s the thing, none of the afore mentioned assumptions are correct. Well, I do enjoy the accidental side effect of cultural rebellion… but that’s not the point.

There are two reasons why I wear black. And believe it or not, neither of them are because I’m a minimalist (although everything matching and therefore needing fewer clothes is a HUGE plus – ten/ten recommend).

  1. I sweat a lot. It’s a trait I inherited from my dad. Sweat pits give me the creeps, ergo, I wear black.
  2. I get, like, bad anxiety when I wear color. Ergo, I wear black.

Over the years, I started to notice a trend with myself. When I wore colorful outfits, the world felt too… loud. I started integrating neutrals, and then slowly shifted to only black, and suddenly the world felt quieter.

I have a very loud, obnoxious, passionate, annoying (I think wonderful) personality. Part of it is that I love basically everything and experience it all with a ridiculous amount of zeal and an overabundance of wonderment.

Food isn’t just something to eat; it has an emotion and a heart. French fries are literally my boyfriend; coffee is my soulmate. Museum’s aren’t just a place of knowledge, but a portal into another realm. Movie theaters are an out of body experience. Music is more magic than oxygen. A full moon makes me fly and a sunset can bring me to tears for the sheer beauty.

I don’t just hang out with friends, I belt songs with them and explore with them, and fight for them, and dream with them.

I don’t just sing praises to God, I smile and dance and shout and float in His presence.

Rain gives my heart wings!  And snow.. well, snow actually leaves me speechless.

The point is: I LIVE FOR LIFE.

(I’m an ENFP. If you know anything about Myers-Briggs, you’re nodding with sudden understanding.)

It’s just so dang glorious and exciting.

But it’s also a lot. Like.. a lot. And sometimes dealing with it is extra hard.

Wearing black is like painting myself in a blank canvas. With the magic stroke of pure nothingness, I can design my world through my words and actions, rather than through my dress. People don’t get to decide if I’m funky or athletic or eclectic or classy by the color of my clothes. They have to stick around and figure it out through my personality.

And my personality is a loud mouth.

So my clothing can’t be.

To quote my sister Sarah:

“Some people are really obnoxious and they wear a lot of color, so it’s… like… too much. You’re really, really obnoxious. But since you wear black, it’s not as bad.”

Heh.

Black is like a warm cozy blanket. It makes me feel grounded and connected, when the rest of me is freaking out. When I wear something with color, I feel like everything about me is just too much, for others and for myself. Emotions become too heightened, the world begins to look like a Picasso painting as my brain starts to spazz out. I feel breathless and spun out of control, like I’m floating rapidly away and my tether has been snapped.

In color, I feel unnatural, intimidated by both myself and the world around me.

I become un-me.

This probably seems soooooo dramatic. But if you’ve ever dealt with anxiety, you understand. Sometimes we just need a rope to cling to, whether we’re conscious of it or not. Something that tames the mad beating of the heart, calms the racing rivers of the mind. For me, that comfort comes in black clothing.

I wear black on black on black, and then, if I’m feeling adventurous, more black.

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