I’m currently writing to you from the desk of a madwoman. While rarely in pristine condition, my little work space always seems to start off the week in decent shape. But as the days continue, it inevitably acquires a fun amount of souvenirs.
As of 11:21 p.m. on Tuesday night, this collection includes a Post-It-ridden copy of Paradise Lost, an unopened package from 1-800 Contacts, and a dead light bulb that I believe requires special disposal, but which I have instead chosen to place inside the former packaging of the new and alive light bulb that I bought several weeks ago. Other notable contenders include a rogue fork and a pen bearing the logo of a hotel I do not remember ever visiting. Call me crazy, but I kind of like this little menagerie I’m creating.
What can I say? It’s that time of the quarter, and the combination of midterms, essay deadlines, and summer job applications makes for very little time to do chores. Duties like organizing my desk and replenishing my endlessly low snack supply almost always take a backseat to the more pressing engagements of our academic lives, but what about the jobs that just can’t wait?
I’m speaking, specifically about the growing pile of clothes beginning to emerge above the rim of my hamper.
Doing laundry is one of those tasks that will always bump up your score on the life togetherness chart, yet my brain still associates the practice with large amounts of unproductive time. Because of this belief, I tend to promise myself that I will finally take care of my clothes tomorrow, only to repeat the same inner debate just 24 hours later, in a cycle commonly referred to as “procrastination.” So far, I’ve been able to finally drag everything down to the washing machines whenever a lack of decent outfit choices seems to give me no other option. But I’ve recently been wondering what would happen if I gave up altogether on this particular practice.
It’s not as if this concept has never been attempted: we’ve all had the great pleasure of smelling unwashed clothes next to us in class, and plenty of undergraduates manage to hold off on all laundering until they can dump their fragrant garments into a suitcase for their first flights home. Happy Thanksgiving, Mom! But instead of simply reusing dirty outfits or buying new ones, why don’t we get a little more creative with our desperate fashion choices?
A toga party is not the only place you can wear your bed sheets, and I’ve seen several examples of unique fashion ventures that rely solely on colorful duct tape. The state flags or bohemian tapestries that 63 percent of college students seem to hang on their walls could easily turn into dresses or kilts, and I hear that trash bag ponchos are all the rage on the East Coast.
All in all, college is a time for exploration and adventure in all things, including fashion. So instead of throwing on a back-up sweatshirt whenever your laundry motivation remains low, try something a little more daring. If nothing else, you’ll give us all a bit of thrill during the hectic blur of Week 5.
Contact Georgina Grant at gagrant ‘at’ stanford.edu.