I was at my friendly, neighborhood H&M a few days ago. Something did not feel quite right. Apart from my usual gripes about not living in a cooler place, not being rich enough, or pretty enough, or anything enough, there was an odd, ominous feeling in the air- an insidious presence of something that could merely be sensed, not even felt. It hung like a big, dark, grey cloud, lingering and sapping me of the already elusive positive vibes.
Not my usual shopping scene.
Techno music blared from the speakers. Well, a mix of techno, house, EDM and trance. It seemed more like a party scene than a store. I remember how we used to lock ourselves up in the trial room for hours (minutes) and dance (move awkwardly) in front of the mirror. Something was discordant about this music today. It was good, yes. It took me to another place- a life I used to know and love, a life that was slowly becoming my past, moving further and further away as every day passed by. The music was good technically, but something felt wrong. I felt like I was stuck in a ironically hilarious horror movie, where the main characters resign to the impending apocalypse. People were milling about around the store, buying clothes. Buying and buying and buying. There must have been a million different articles in there that day. shirts, tops, shoes, suspenders, make up, nail polish, glitter scrunchies, bikinis.... it was truly something I had never stopped to think about until that evening. I used to ponder, and talk (albeit a bit pretentiously) a lot of consumerism, but I never felt it like I did that day. Huge factories, sprawling cramped sweat shops, all over the world, churning out billions and trillions of articles for the "consumer"- the glassy eyed, heavily made up (or intentionally under dressed bed-headed) girl, who bought another black top, and another one, and a pink skirt, despite owning about twenty five black tops.
Gone were the days when you would enter a beautiful shop, touch the soft, velvety cashmere, inhale the lovely "new clothes" aroma of brand new crisply folded cotton T-shirts. Sometimes, I feel like one of the zombie brigade, aimlessly walking around stores, picking up things without experiencing the thrill of acquiring something new, simply buying because "it was an irresistible sale". Then I realize, that most things in life have gone, or will go stale. From conversations to clothing, from movies to outings; life is slowly going from technicolor to sepia, fading like an aging carpet. Perhaps, this is a sign of aging, becoming a adult, the person who is actually nothing like you: not even a reflection of yourself in a spotty glass. Growing up has never been so disillusioning as it is in this decade. Let alone finding something to live for, there is nothing really to die for. We just exist all of us, zombies, actually more like souls wandering the Fields of Asphodel, lost, lonely and mirthless.
I went to the other mall the other day. Another day, another H&M, another track playing in the background and another black top at an "irresistible" price. A blue dress here and a pink shirt there and a wonderful blue top that fit me like a glove, practically perfect. Everything turned sunnier. Lights grew brighter and sounds of laughter rang about. I was filled with the rush of triumph of getting a pretty outfit for a steal. I suppose that is both the curse and the convenience of possessing the human mind. The smallest pleasures act as a placebo, a cushion that push the ugly reality to the back of our minds, to some secret corner, at least for a while. Finding an outfit (especially when you're fat), eating a delicious meal on the street, talking to some one after a long time and regaling in the stories of our past: these things give us the hope, the impetus to get up and get through the day, despite knowing how pointless existence is.
I am thinking of buying a new phone sometime soon. I think the dose of "positive vibes" should last for about a month. :)
