12

That’s the number of solid khaki or tan articles of clothing I own.  And I’m talking khaki or tan in color.  I don’t mean brown.  I don’t mean light olive.  I don’t mean off-white.  I don’t mean a style of pants called khaki that may or may not have anything to do with hue.

12

I have 7 (7!) pairs of khaki pants.  I didn’t even know that I wore khaki pants that much, but apparently I wear them all the time (I know because I just washed all of them).  I have 1 pair of khaki capris (I’m wearing them right now).  I have 2 khaki skirts (I wore one yesterday).  I have a khaki cardigan that I wore to work so frequently my students commented on it (but I’m a high school teacher – those classrooms can be cold; and my students commented on everything I wore anyway, so there is that).  And I have a khaki fleece vest (I added it to my classroom layering wardrobe to mix things up a little).

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I’m struck by several things.  For starters, the sheer quantity of clothing I have must be grotesque if I can sport enough khaki bottoms to wear khaki bottoms for a week and half without washing anything and without wearing any article more than once.

Secondly, I don’t even like khaki all that much.  I know it must seem that I do, from the egregious amount of khaki clothing I own and wear.  But I don’t.  I apparently find it easy to wear.

Thirdly, I don’t think I’m alone.  The khaki industry is insidious, sidling itself into the marketplace, preying on consumers, telling us khaki is a wardrobe staple.

Aww man.  I just remembered I have a khaki pair of shoes.

13.

How much khaki do you own?  Let me know in the comments section.