The Worst Clothing Item You Own

Illustration for article titled The Worst Clothing Item You Own
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A few short weeks ago, just before the holidays, the Jezebel staff kicked off an animated conversation about our worst clothing items. By “worst” I don’t mean “ugliest,” or “most unhip,” just plain old bad fits. Clothing that deteriorates immediately. Clothing that is impossible to put on. Clothing that has caused us nothing but strife, and yet, we continue to own it.

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I’ll ruin the surprise: multiple members of this editorial body own jumpsuits that button up along the back and therefore require an extra set of hands to put on. That’s dumb! Why many of us made the same mistake is beyond me, but it’s funny, so I’m floating the question to our loyal Pissing Contest commenters. What is the worst item of clothing that you own? You can be as loose as you want in your definition of “worst.” I’d love context for why you believe it is the “worst,” too. If you have photos, feel free to share those, as well. I love a visual aid.

But before that, let’s check out last week’s winners. Here are the best stories from the time you tried to reinvent yourself over the new year.

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FleshyDumpling, you are an inspiration:

I was at a stressful job that sucked all life and joy out of me the moment I stepped through the office doors. It was a nightmare, but I held on because I was told by my manager that I was *this close* to a promotion. A promotion/raise that was needed to justify staying in the area, and a promotion I didn’t get. After a conversation about career pacing (and getting drunk at the holiday party and asking everyone what their salary was), I made up my mind.

On vacation over New Years, in a state I spent less than 4 days in, in a town I spent less than 2 hours touring- we put an offer on a home, dropped everything, and moved. I fully admit that we were ridiculously privileged to be able to do something like that, but it did require a decade of various tortures to get there.

That year I developed interests that lit those fires of passion that I thought were long dead and was better able to address some mental health issues I had been facing. It’s been a few years and I can say it was the best decision I’ve made.

LizzieMae, I will never make a resolution again:

Not sure if this is what you’re looking for, but:

Do you know the story of the Monkey’s Paw? The gist is a warning to be careful what you wish for. A few years ago I made New Year’s resolutions to lose weight, talk less, and eat more fruit. That fall I got ridiculously sick and not only dropped 35 lbs, but lost my voice for 6 weeks, too. Turned out I have Crohn’s disease. I was terrified I would get run over by a fruit cart or something in answer to my 3rd resolution.

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spikespeigel, this counts, and good for you!

Not sure if this counts, but I worked up the courage to tell my current employer that I will not be returning when my contract expires. I have one position already in the wings, but I’ve been feeling out other offers. And so far the main difference is that compared to the last time I was changing jobs, people are approaching me first before I can state my interest in the available positions. It’s a weird feeling, given that I’m always second-guessing myself. But realizing that I might be someone that people would seek out is a different, if not pleasant, feeling. I’m trying to have more faith in my abilities and skill set, but given where I’m coming from, it’s always been a difficult task to believe in myself. Who knows? Maybe this is the year things finally go my way?

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Pumpkin Andy is Orange, I believe in you:

I don’t have a past reinvention but this year I’m moving abroad and intend to become the best me ever in 2020! No more job, away from awful family who’ll never visit, I’m now getting rid of nearly all of my possessions except casual clothes, jewelery, and toiletries, and it’s going to be a brand freaking new life for me! Maybe my mental and physical health will prove, living in a pretty place with year round spring weather, one can hope. So I’ll let y’all know how this reinvention goes, because as Scheana Shay would say, it’s all happening.

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spinachfarm, this is a poem:

Juice cleanse: day 3 I deliriously ate a mint I found under the seat of my car

Assistant Undersecretary of Only Okay, this is a life lesson if I’ve ever read one on Pissing Contest:

There was one year I spent all year planning on how I was Going to Move Out of My Hometown Finally for Good and I Mean It This Time! The plan was to work until New Year’s Eve (I was bartending at the time, it’s good money) and then leave for the big city at the start of the new year. As the year waxed on I got drawn into an increasingly negative relationship that caused me to doubt myself, drink heavily, and isolate myself from some of my closest friends (they mostly all hated him and refused to hang out if he was around). Without going into details, things between us ended violently. By mid January the next year I was in a pit, unable to face everyone who I had promised I was going to make this big move to. I had quit both my jobs in preparation for the move (I had saved up several grand, so I had something to live off of), so I spent most days hiding in my room watching “Sword Art Online” on my phone trying to not interact with my roommates, or walking across town to watch movies in the theatre alone. I barely ate. I couldn’t face the fact of what had happened, or what was worse, despite my initial instincts to forgive him he basically dropped me afterward. And I couldn’t talk to my best friend, who’s couch in theory I should’ve been crashing on 300 miles and a new life away from my bed in my dark room.

Anyway, a few months later I was at my old job when one of the staff members told me he was planning to quit and move away. That job was one of the few places where I felt like I truly belonged, where I felt strong and confident and safe. I immediately ran upstairs and asked my old boss to rehire me to replace the person leaving. She agreed, and for the first time in months I felt like I had some sort of purpose again. It wasn’t what my grand plan had been, and it wasn’t the adventure I had in mind, but it was a lifeboat and I really desperately needed one. No one judged me for not following through on my big move, at least not in some sort of hateful condemnation kind of way, and when I was able to open up about what had happened it was my co-workers that I first talked to, that hugged me and reassured me and made me feel like I was starting to put myself back together.

So I’ve never really invented a new me, but in a way over a year I was able to reinvent the old me to save myself.

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Hear that sound? It’s me, instructing you to drop your fashion faux pas in the comments below. Thanks in advance!

No. Senior Writer, Jezebel. My debut book, LARGER THAN LIFE: A History of Boy Bands, is out now.

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DISCUSSION

shartling1
CorporalTrim'snewaccountbecausethecomputerbroke

I am fifty-four years old and have always been game to try oddball clothing. I came of age in the eighties. My bad clothes have been the stuff of legend. I went to one wedding in the eighties in a forties-inspired black and white dress cut down to the bottom of my sternum, white satin gloves to my elbow, and a black pillbox hat with an eye veil. I went to another in a dress that made me look like a bumblebee. When I met my husband, I had an outfit so bad (olive green harem pants and a burnt orange sweater) that whenever I wore it, he did laundry so that I wouldn’t have to wear it again. I might still have the dog collar I wore thirty-odd years ago.  I have taught a university class in eighteenth-century fiction wearing leather pants.

My worst piece of clothing is a pair of polyester-blend black dress pants from when I had an office job. I can’t get rid of them because they feel “appropriate” in case I ever need to be appropriate, even though they suck the life out of me and all of my surroundings and make me feel like I’m eighty and haven’t had sex in a decade.