The Power of Price.

It's disconcerting. 

The ability of a number to influence my mentality. 

But it's real. 

One moment I'm touting the unbelievable price of my thrift-store find, 

and the next I'm keeping mum about the embarrassingly steep asking price of my seemingly subtle basic. 

But why?

Why can the cost of a oft-overlooked item be so empowering to my psyche?

Am I truly proud of its heightened quality? Am I bolstered by the luxurious texture of its costly fabric against my skin?

Ir is it aspirational?

Do I hope that the right people will know that I invested extra in what most would consider an unnecessary basic, and that they'll therefore respect me that much more?

Or is it purely narcissistic?

Is it an ego boost to know that I don't succumb to overlooking the sartorial subtleties that so many others often do?

Except that I do. 

Well, except on the rare occasion that I don't. (i.e. here)

In which case I wear one really overly-luxurious basic to one wholly inappropriate occasion in an attempt to act effortlessly elegant. Like "hell yes these are Valentino heels I'm using to pedal my bike."

Except that I don't wear Valentino heels.

Or do legitimate exercise.

I do, however, pick apples. 

Which is where I wore this Sherlock-Holmes-esque ensemble and fantastically-amazing button up NSF shirt which I sort of don't ever take off.

button-up denim shirt: NSF, trousers: H&M, boots: Lucky Brand 

Fine, 

it's no Chanel, 

but still..

would I be as attached to it if it were from Goodwill?

Cheers.