when someone steps out in a garish outfit that is utterly bizarre and pushes the envelope, observers might wonder what possesses someone to dress in such a way. "what was s/he thinking? they have all the choices in the world, they wear that?!"
but what of the pride of clothing? the beautiful things that are out there, hanging on hangers, or lying on shelves, waiting for a day out. hoping for a fun time, nice weather, compatible friends.
if clothing had feelings, what would it not want to do?