In Need of the Fashion Police

I am a simple man, of simple fashion. And since the world of fashion frightens me terribly, I keep it safe. I go through very long, and very straightforward phases. To name a few:

Elementary School:

• Sweatpants
• Soccer shorts if it's hot
• T-Shirts that my parents bought for me, or hand-me-down T-Shirts
• Sweatshirts when it's cold, or sweaters (when forced, to my dismay)
• Sneakers

Middle School:

• Jeans
• Mesh shorts if it's hot
  
• Hideous, plaid, flannel shirts unbuttoned over a huge T-Shirt
• Sneakers
  
• I'm cringing right now

High School:

• Jeans/Khakis
• Khaki shorts if it's hot
  
• Red Sox T-Shirts
• Polo Shirts (golf collar shirts)
• Hooded sweatshirts if it's cold, or perhaps my ski-team fleece
  
• Sneakers
  

College:

• Jeans/Khakis
• Khaki shorts if it's hot
  
• Polo Shirts
• Sweaters or a zip-up sweatshirt if it's cold
  
• Sneakers

Now:

• Jeans (hot or cold)
  
• Solid colored T-Shirts, or
  
• One of 9 cheap-looking button-down shirts I bought in Vietnam, untucked
• A zip-up sweatshirt if it's cold
  
• Sneakers
  

As you see, I don't vary it up much-- in fact, every time you see "Jeans" I am referring to a single pair. Never do I own more than one pair-- I wear the same pants every day of my life until they become sufficiently tattered, and then buy a new pair to wear everyday. And yes, I'm slightly proud of this.

And I am extremely unadventurous. For a couple years in college, I wore huge, black, high-tops everyday that made everyone cringe, but to my dying day I'll defend. That was as out-of-the-box as I've ever ventured. I also had a navy-blue Nike hat that I wore every day from the age of 13-20, until I lost it somewhere. It was the only hat that ever looked normal on me.

In general, it's all gone pretty smoothly. Until recently.

About fifteen minutes ago, I went into my closet to grab a blue button down shirt, one of 9 from Vietnam. And then I remembered that it wasn't there. I looked up at the shelf where my last pair of jeans should be. Not there. I looked on the rack for my go-to sweatshirt. None to be seen.

These articles of clothing are not in my closet because they've all been stolen from my apartment's basement laundry room in the 6 months since I've moved in. My old apartment had a washer and dryer inside the apartment and this wasn't a problem I ever considered. Now, I can only watch in horror as my wardrobe trickles away.

And there's nothing I can do. I'm not going to wait down there for 2 hours while the clothes are washed. And I'm not going to not wash my clothes. That leaves me with no option but to remain at the whim of some thief that lives in my building.

The worst part is that I never realize something was stolen at the time it's stolen-- I just fold my clothes and go on with my life. It's only later when I'm looking at a bunch of shirts on the rack and realize that one is missing that I know that I've been robbed.

It's confusing, too. Whoever the thief is, he can never wear the clothes because if I ran into him in the elevator it would be earth-shakingly awkward. Is he selling them? Does the thief not live in the building?

This infuriates me to an extent that is difficult to express in this forum. And it's just another wrinkle in the "Everything Tim owns is stolen in a span of 8 months" story (along with my laptop, iPod, camera, computer camera, phone, and dignity, the last of which will be stolen this spring).

Why are people taking things from me? I have these things in the first place because I need them. Why are people taking things from me that I need?

And all I can do, as I sit here in my jeans and solid blue t-shirt, is wonder.