In my opinion, there is one particularly great thing about this whole clothing-taking ordeal.
Scent. Scent is my favorite of all five senses. Probably because scents are almost always indescribable and certainly distinct. While I may love words, there is something truly great about not being able to describe something. Being completely and utterly, word-free.
The problem is, as this summer is flying by, I am finding that I can simply just not wash the borrowed clothing, and the distinct scents can linger on my collection of apparel (whilst they become increasingly soiled), or I can wash away the scent of my friends, lovers, and old flames, and all that remains will be some fabric, a slogan or design, and a size. I think without the scent, a little bit of the borrowed magic floats away. And eventually, people just want their stuff back.
"I understand why people sometimes want to kill their lovers, eat their lovers, inhale the ashes of their dead lovers. I understand that this is the only way to possess another person with the kind of desperate longing that I have."