Aspects of my personal journey as an autistic woman - why dressing is a complicated matter.
All the things I will never wear.
A keepers tweed jacket - woven from subtle greens, in natural dyes. The colours of lichen and mosses. If I could wear it, I would feel like I was cloaked in woodland itself. The fabric is strong and slightly coarse, it would be warm and protective. The jacket is finely shaped, yet loose enough to allow ease of movement. Its lining is silky and is a pale greenyellowgold which does not shine too brightly, but is calming.
White vintage blouse - made from layers of translucent material trimmed with lace. The blouse has a simplicity of style. It is both feminine and austere. The material feels like smooth flowing water. It has a purity of appearance. Wearing it would be like being inside a convolvulus flower.
Black ballet skirt - full length, voluminous, layer upon layer of black tulle.
Impractical in every sense. Wide and space taking. One's smallest movement creating a crescendo of whispers which follow every step one takes. Black as jet, blacker than night. Delicate, dark, like wearing shadows and whispers.
Rainmac - creamy white soft pvc. Like a private eye mac crossed with a glamorous and mysterious spy. The fabric feels milky to touch and rain drops would gather on it before creating rivulets of water, so that one becomes the beating heart of a small waterfall. It is gently percussive. It has generous sleeves and a belt one can buckle or tie, when belted the skirt of the coat is shaped like a bell. The coat rustles in an expensive way and is lined with pinstriped creamy satin. I imagine it would be a joy to wear.
What I do wear.
Old, worn, men’s trousers that are both too big and too small. Mud covered shoes which are comfortable but whose appearance, even when mud free, distresses me. A loose grey t-shirt, or old black roll neck top. A practical rain jacket, which I dislike but cannot replace. A grey fleece top which belonged to my husband, it is my comfort item - I have worn it most days for the past seventeen years.
Although I have certain self imposed rules and sensory needs which govern what I am able to wear, I can only dimly perceive what underlies them, whatever it is is powerful and feels necessary.
My inner world is in a state of constant tension and negotiating the world of others is a delicate operation - it is a world where at any moment, some unexpected happening or comment may cause me to fall from a dizzying height and be shattered. So, it is much much safer to stay the same, to wear the same clothes each day, and each season - and this is why I wear a winter coat on a summers day.