We’ve all borrowed clothes from friends. Maybe a dress for a party, a pair of black heels that matched way better with your outfit than any of your seven pairs of black heels, or (if you’re me) socks and underwear from your housemates when you’ve just been like so busy that you haven’t had time to do your laundry (ew, get it together plz, @myself).
Borrowing clothes isn’t that interesting. If you have a sister like me, or a mom who wears the same size shoes as you, or like, I don’t know—any friend at all—you’ve likely been doing this for a decade.
But a few weeks ago I experienced an entirely new and fascinating form of borrowing clothes.
I forgot to set my alarm because I fell asleep watching Shameless, so I woke up approximately 11 minutes before my 10 am was starting. My initial instinct was to jump out of bed and throw on any clean clothes in my sight, but this proved difficult due to an accumulating pile of dirty laundry in my hamper (see paragraph one).
It soon became apparent that I had practically no clean clothes, and it was impossible to make a cohesive outfit out of what was left. By the time I looked slightly presentable, it was 9:56 and I needed to leave. I couldn’t find my jacket, but luckily my friend had left her East Hampton sweatshirt on my couch, so I threw it on and ran out the door. Thus began a very interesting day.
It should be noted that I am from the West Coast, and have minimal experience with The Hamptons. I have nothing at all against these towns which comprise the eastern portion of Long Island. They’re filled with pretty white houses and pretty beaches, and they seem very nice, albeit a little strange to a West Coaster. If you can afford to have a beach home, why not just live in California…? (JK, you know you’re my second favorite state, New York.)
Over the course of my East-Hampton-sweatshirt-wearing day, I had several peculiar interactions. A girl in the dining hall asked me what street my family’s summer house was on, evidently wondering if we were neighbors. Two lacrosse players gave me a firm head nod of approval (seriously, on two separate occasions). And I got about 433 glares and eye rolls on my way to classes. Take note, I had never in my life spoken to any of these people.
What I learned from this experience is that you can literally shape your entire day by accidentally lying about your identity through what you choose to wear!! Pretty cool, huh?!
I decided to conduct several social experiments relating to this pressing discovery, and I highly encourage you to do the same. A few days later, as I made the many hour journey back home to California for the long weekend, I found myself changing planes in the Chicago airport. I chose the airport as my laboratory, since I was bored and waiting for my connecting flight home, and because I didn’t feel Brown would be a great place to test my many fake identities, following the infamous East Hampton day.
Over the course of my layover I made several discoveries:
- If you wear your friend’s Red Sox sweatshirt…nothing interesting will happen.
- Suggestions for improvement: Try to match the sports team with the current city you’re in…how fun would it be to get random high fives for wearing a Cubs jersey at O’Hare? Or better yet, wear the Red Sox sweatshirt at JFK and see what happens.
- If you take off this sweatshirt to reveal your own sorority shirt…a lot of blonde midwestern moms will smile at you, and you will get better service from flight attendants (I was equally annoyed yet unsurprised to discover this).
- Suggestions for improvement: HIDE the srat tank when hot hipster guy walks past your aisle seat to avoid a painful smirk. Better yet, bring a mason jar and place it strategically on the tray in front of you to attract him.
- If you pull up your laptop to write this Rib article, and consequently broadcast your #I’mWithHer sticker to the world, you will get a lot of smiles, and a couple of glares.
- Suggestions for improvement: For bonus fun, reveal your Hillary Clinton sticker at the Houston Airport instead. You might start an actual riot! Please contact me ASAP so I can hear about how it went.
So there you have it, my current discoveries pertaining to clothes and stolen identity. Turns out there are more innovative ways of borrowing clothes than just taking your roommate’s underwear.
Image via Emma Butler.