Love Fashion

I realize there are a bajillion fashion blogs out there, and that my whole point of starting Coffee Yoga and Life's Other Necessities was to talk about things that were unique to me. Plus, that whole goal to not be as much of a broke college student makes it, in theory, impossible to buy new cute things that I can show off to the internet world. Then again, I was never good at theories. Perhaps this is why I never took physics in high school. But my roommate's sister Amanda saw my blog, and said, "hey, I used to have a blog! I took pictures of myself wearing a different shirt and explained how or why I got it." Well, there goes my whole money saving scheme and my new shirt-sporting theme. Not to be confused with sporty shirts, because for all the diversity that Penn State has, it doesn't change the fact that I have seen at least a hundred PSU tank tops swarming the campus. I'll just go duck and cover in my hippie dress, and try to hide the wheat grass that I'm chomping on. We're not a preppy campus, but if you admit the fact that you don't have ten million blue and white tanks, nor did you jump online  to buy football tickets, you're either poor or crazy.  Maybe my ecclectic shopping style makes me both poor and crazy, but hey, at least I'm guaranteed not to get shot during hunting season with this lovely purchase:

Hah, get it, lovely? Okay, that will be first and last corny joke, because I was gonna make a joke about cheese, but that would just be too cheesy. Alright, seriously, I'm done. We can all go back to serious scholar mode. After all, that's what the rest of the universe does on a college Friday night.

So. The shirt. I found this at Target, which is slightly depressing, because I would love to be like the women I met at Shoshoni and say I found it while I was dumpster diving, or an old lady from Scotland gave it to me only if I promised to supply her with a lifetime supply of Haggas. Unfortunately, no Haggas was involved, only debit cards that see paychecks flying out the window. Bland location aside, what struck me about this shirt was its serene message displayed in such a loud way. Love is hardly portrayed as bam, unless you're a horny teenager who displays lifelong commitment by sticking his/her tongue into their significant other's throat. Love usually creeps up on us, is soft and comforting, while hot pink is more like "hey, who's ready to party?" If, you know, colors could talk. I'm not usually into tee-shirts with print, seeing as its slightly awkward for people to stare at my chest while they're searching for reading material. My only other printed shirt consists of a burger asking his fellow hot dog "what's up dog?" So this is certainly a contrast to items that give away my secret wish to be twelve years old. It's odd how a piece of fabric can instantly make me feel more open; I suppose it makes sense, as I've always been more comfortable with the written word. Instead of telling people, "hey you, I only look like I'm going to eat your face off, but I actually love most anything and everything," I can shorten what would come out as a stutter and awkward eye contact as a simple word. The only thing that's missing is a picture of coffee and chocolate under the words "fucking adore." Then my entire self would be displayed in one article of clothing.

Namaste.