A different kind of walk.
Yesterday I walked into a second-hand store and started picking clothes. I was putting them in my basket and each one seemed to say something. I can’t fully explain it, but every piece created a small story. Unfortunately, I had to leave before trying them on because the store was closing.
Today I went back and continued the experience right where it had stopped. I started choosing clothes again, but this time I paid closer attention to what was happening inside me. Every piece I placed in the basket seemed to open a small scene, a feeling, a possibility.
At one point I paused and thought, “Wait… does every piece of clothing really create a story?” Immediately the critical voice appeared: “Come on, you’re imagining things. They’re just clothes.” But the game had already started.
So I continued. I chose several “stories” and walked toward the fitting room with my arms full. I tried them on one by one and noticed how each of them slightly changed my posture, the way I stood, the way I looked at myself in the mirror. Some whispered calm. Others movement. Others energy.
And then there was a short dress. The moment I put it on, its story almost hit me. Not like a clear movie, but more like a sensation in my body and a few quick images: me in the evening, wearing that dress, walking toward the Soha terrace in Alicante. Under a big tree, I meet my future husband.
I smiled. Of course my mind immediately said, “That’s nonsense.” But the feeling stayed.
And that’s when I realized something simple: usually I choose clothes based on how I feel. But sometimes the opposite happens. Clothes make me feel a certain way.
And it’s not only about feelings. It’s also about the story I tell myself about who I am when I wear them, what I believe about myself in that moment, and in some way what I choose to show the world about who I am.
In the end I went home with a lot of clothes. Probably around twenty. All in very bright colors: yellow, red, orange, green, purple.
It made me realize that maybe I didn’t just buy clothes. Maybe I bought stories. Or maybe simply states of being that I want to explore.
Sometimes a walk through a second hand store can be more than shopping. It can become a small laboratory about who we are, how we see ourselves, and who we allow ourselves to become — even if it’s just for one evening, in a colorful dress, under a big tree, somewhere in a city that may already exist in our life… or maybe not yet.