The summer before my senior year of college I got a summer job working at Interlochen Arts Camp. Interlochen is located between two lakes in northern Michigan and its reputation and strong sense of tradition put it on the world stage. As workers we were required to participate in some of this tradition, whether we wanted to or not, and most noticeable when entering the premises was the clothing. All the boys wore navy blue bottoms, light blue collar shirts (white was permissible on Sunday and Monday) and belts that indicated how old they were. The girls shared the color scheme, but for some reason they made us wear blue corduroy knickers. These knickers came down just past our knees, tapered, and were complemented by a nice pair of navy blue knee socks.
We had to rent the knickers from the camp because what store in their right mind would sell them? The knickers themselves never fit quite right on anyone. They bunched in all of the wrong places, were too tight here and baggy there – in short, they were ugly. And I loved them. None of us complained. We each knew exactly what we were wearing the next day and they were pretty comfortable. And honestly, where else could we wear blue corduroy knickers and get away with it?
This story came to mind this morning. Nastia has been giving me sly remarks about my cloths ever since I arrived. I wear too much black, the green is awful and nothing is light and colorful. "But black is always in!" I try to appease her. It never works. So I decided to go the bazaar with her and the fam this morning to maybe buy some sensible Ukrainian cloths.
I don't know what I was thinking when I thought "sensible Ukrainian cloths." Let me tell you about the way Ukrainian women dress. Think short, tight and see-through. We started at the jeans section. I have wanted a dark blue pair, almost black, for some time, but each time I picked a pair up Nastia shook her head and gave me the look. "No way." And Ena agreed. Apparently they had already secretly agreed on gulla-boy – light blue.
In America Fatty, Shannon and I had a favorite game. We usually met at the Border's in Novi and just a few stores down was a TJ Maxx. After a cup of coffee and some conversation at the book store we made our way down to TJ Maxx for the "TJ Maxx Challenge." The game was simple. As soon as we entered the store we would have 5 minutes to find the most hideous piece of clothing and meet in the middle of the store. TJs has an amazing collection of unsightly clothing – sometimes we had a clear winner and sometimes we fought it out and tried to provide evidence of why our piece of dreadful clothing was worse than the others.
I don't know what Fatty, Shannon and I would do if we decided to play this in a Ukrainian bazaar. Just when you think you can't see worse, you do. Nastia pointed to one pair with slash marks through them, lace, writing, the works, and said they were pretty. Did she say pretty? Did I totally just mess up a Russian word I use a few times a day? Maybe it has another definition? No one in their right mind would describe these ripped up frilly jeans as pretty. Stall after stall went like this. Some has writing, some patches, some cut up. Wasn't there a middle ground!?
I was actually hoping for some plain jeans with maybe some little jewels on the pockets (did that comment just come out of my mind?)…something not very noticeable but noticeable enough to show I was trying. I went to a few stalls and tried on light blue gaudy jeans until I finally settled. These will have to do. They are light blue. They have a few random stitched pictures on them, one on a front pocket one on a back pocket. And they have these weird zippers on the outside of the pockets with little chains….wow that sounds really bad. Oh, and of course they are a bit tighter than I am used to.
It wouldn't have been a complete day without a complete outfit, so we moved onto the shirt section. Any dark colors were once again out. Nastia kept asking what I liked, but I liked the plain dark shirts and that would never do. Finally Ena came by and took us into a stall and picked one out for me. It is bright blue and it said VERSACE on the front. On the back was a big face in a circle – it kind of looks like medusa.
As the sun was setting after my run and shower I tried on my new Ukrainian outfit. I feel fat. I think I look fat. Or maybe I am just not used to the tightness of the cloths. Nastia came in and was in raptures. She took me out to model for Ena and Vanya, who made me turn in circles and complemented me left and right. "You look like a real Ukrainian girl now!"
I never would have bought anything like this in the states. In fact, I probably would have made fun of anyone wearing this outfit in the states. But just as at Interlochen, where else can I wear tight jeans with stitched pictures without being made fun of? In fact, if I had bought a really awful pair with rips, lace and writing I probably would have been complemented like never before. So why not live in the moment? I'm adapting to the local culture and if that culture dictates short, tight and see-through why not?
But really, I just want to try to blend in a little. "Something not very noticeable but noticeable enough to show I am trying." I will always be different – even my walk gives me away as a foreigner, so no need to go all the way. There are places in UA clothing that even I won't go. And seriously, if you do see me wearing ripped jeans with writing on them in a picture, send me hate mail and empty jars of peanut butter.
____________________________________________________________________________________
Moody friends. Drama queens. Your life? Nope! - their life, your story. Play Sims Stories at Yahoo! Games.
http://sims.yahoo.com/
No comments:
Post a Comment