holes in your favorite clothes
— that just means they’ve reached
their peak
even wearability has its ups
and downs…
the best jeans are tattered
in at least a few places,
and a shirt isn’t your shirt until you get
those tears in the sleeves, right where
you scrunch and bend the most…
your clothes become you
until you let them go —
or until they disintegrate…
it’s a contest between your concept of self
and society
to see how much longer
your loving threads will stand up
to bitter scrutiny
Garbage Notes:
I’m one of those people who loves wearing old clothes. All my favorite shirts have holes in them. I love when the fabric gets so thin that it almost feels like you’re wearing nothing.
I know I look like a fucking hobo sometimes, but I don’t give a fuck. It’s comfortable and especially in the summer, when it’s hot as hell, there’s nothing better than having a good amount of ventilation in your threads.
I wear my Chuck Taylors until they get that trademark rip on the side where the sole meets the shoe, right near the ball the foot. Especially for me, I have wide feet, so that shit starts to wear down within like a few months.
I love when jeans start to get those marks in the thighs that outline the impression of whatever you keep in your pocket. For me it’s the rectangular cell phone shape on the left and the square wallet shape on the right. All my jeans eventually get that signature square and rectangle. It’s so sad though, when they finally start to tear in the crotch, and then you know it’s time to part ways.
My favorite line in the poem is, “your clothes become you, until you let them go or until they disintegrate.” And I think that’s usually how things work in life. You either choose to surrender, or eventually things just slip away.
Franco Amati 2023
The older I get, the more I feel like a Velveteen Rabbit-esque personification of this phenomenon... Like even though my physical body is slowly disintegrating, I feel like there is a comfortable, "worn" quality in my head that I didn't have when I was younger. Do we become more ourselves over time? I would like to think that maybe we do. Beautiful poem.
I think, as I read your very comfortable piece (like wearing an old flannel shirt) of the admonition "thou shalt have no other Gods before me." Even old tattered clothes that make me feel sentimental to the bones. Materialism has many faces.