The last shirt left.

I twirl the shirt over and lay it flat on the surface of my bed.

Fold the left sleeve in, then the right sleeve over it.

Grab the shirt by its collar and let it fold itself into parts of three – like an accordion.

I grab the shirt, make my way to the dresser, and slide the shirt into place. It was tightly packed along with the rest of the shirts.

It was only then, after I had finished putting away all of my laundry, that I realized the three shades of Paarth that lay in front of me.

I tend to think I don’t have a style, but I’d say recently I’ve preferred sticking to neutral colours.

White.

Grey.

Black.

Unknowingly, I had sorted my dresser into my preferred colours. Over time, my coloured shirts have exited my laundry rotation.

I enjoy the aesthetic of neutral colours. Nothing beats a clean, sharp, white tee.

The neutral colours pair well with most other articles of clothings, so it lets me mindlessly pick out my clothes.

Times of being seen in public are of the past, but I imagine even then, the neutral colours would help lessen the emphasis I once placed on dressing. I was never the most stylish, but I’ve become more detached from it lately.

I thought it was fascinating that the shades made there way so prominently in my dresser, and yet, I was left with a slight distaste for it.

The goal of wearing neutral colours was to diminish the system of style.

It seems I’ve created a new system in the process.