the enabling never ends
the boy, better known as naz “the enabler” hamid, has taken his enabling to new heights. but let’s start off with his track record.
he’s gotten me and several others to make the jump to digital photography, namedropping nikon along the way. so a number of us now own d50s or derivatives thereof. and of course, let’s not forget the pushing he did for the sigma 28mm macro lens at SXSW. i wasn’t there to defend my purchase (people, this was a purchase i made after careful consideration and through no prodding by any outside sources), and i’m sure he may have mentioned to some that it was really my lens, but somehow that detail went to the wayside as i read about others now snatching up this lens like it’s going out of style. all thanks to naz. ahem
and let’s talk about bikes. when we first met, i was chugging around on a monster of a mountain bike, lovingly referred to as “hank the tank.” but as our relationship quickly progressed, so did the upgrade of my bike gear. i started with an ’80s fuji old school style, now i ride a mercian that receives glances of all sorts on the streets. all due in part to my boy. and that’s just bikes. he’s also been there to “encourage” me to buy nice patagonia gear and weatherproof bags. he’s still working on the fixed gear and clipless aspects, but for those, i will never falter.
and this weekend. let me tell you about the damage that was done. the cleaning of closets. trashing the clothes that may still fit but no longer fit in fashionable terms. part of this is my desire to look good and thus feel good. and another part is the boy’s playful joshing of my clothes selection. i guess i’ve been spoiled by the fact that i’ve always worked in an industry where i can wear jeans and tennis shoes to work. i’ve never been forced to look presentable. well, maybe i’m coming of age or [insert some other bullshit line], but i’ve become dreadfully bored of my appearance. the clothes, they just ain’t working for me.
and who was there all too readily to help me with this latest endeavor? you betcha. shining armor and all. rather, trash bag and cutting sarcasm a la stacy and clinton. the ribbed sweaters. gone. that faded black top. gone. skirts that hung just a little too oddly. jeans not quite the right denim color. pants that wouldn’t even look good altered into cute capris or shorts. all of it. gone.
and then comes the shopping in attempt to replace those that suffered a merciless death. six hours on saturday braving the elements known as michigan avenue and then about an hour and a half on sunday at probably my favorite retail establishment, anthropologie, and i walked away with five articles of clothing. you heard right. five. what a failure am i.
but the truth is, after much coaching from the boy, reinvigorating your wardrobe and replenishing your closets can be a hit or miss journey. some days, the sales are aplenty, the sizes are all right and the crowds are kept at a minimum, and you come stumbling home with your hands full of bags, proud of all your purchases. and other days, you only come out with a few select pieces, but all very good pieces, as was the case with me.
and then there’s the cost issue. if you want to look good, you really do have to pay for it. i’m not a total convert, and i’m sure i’ll still bow down to the target bargains here and there, but admittedly, i paid more for those five pieces than i care to disclose. but i love them all. and i know i’ll get good wear out of them. and as a former colleague once told me when i was still such a newbie to the likes of banana republic, “jen, it’s really about the price per wear, not the upfront cost.” and you better believe that’s the same sermon i heard from the boy.
so i guess it wasn’t a total loss. i love what i purchased and look forward to parading around in new garb, mixing and matching what i still own (what little remains, that is) with the classier pieces. and in the future, i’ll find a piece here and there to intertwine with my reborn wardrobe, slowly working my way up to a better me.
i actually sound like i believe this load of poo, don’t i? goddamn that man is good.