It’s spring-cleaning time and I’ve been cleaning out the Fibber McGee closet in my office, so it can do double-duty as the office supply larder/off-season clothing storage. (An aside: Boo-frickin’-hoo, she has to store her off-season clothes next to her office supplies. Yeah, I know. But I lived for a while in a one-bedroom apartment with six closets and it forever changed my concept of what adequate closet space is.)
I think it’s been established elsewhere on this site that I was officially Hard On Clothes as a kid. Pristine Best & Co. outfits were passed down to me by my sister, only to disintegrate almost immediately. I remember, in particular, her “Sound of Music” inspired ensembles. I also remember third grade, a freakish year in which there were no hand-me-downs — either my sister didn’t grow, or I didn’t grow. At ny rate, I got NEW clothes. I still smile when I see photos from that year because I remember who pleased I was.
I guess I’m not as hard on my clothes anymore as some of them are surviving years, even decades. Surprising, given how low I shop on the clothing chain. And while I adhere to the “throw it out if you haven’t worn it in two years” rule, a few things get to slide. Well-made dressy clothes for one. Beautiful shoes, even unwearable ones.
Today, however, I confronted a 12-year-old Gap skirt. A long, slim skirt with a side-button placket, in a muted plaid of pale green/yellow/beige/brown. I bought this at the Gap in Landover Mall, taking a shopping lunch break while on the way back to Baltimore from an assignment. I was a very different person then — far more optimistic, overwhelmingly sentimental. I even looked different — short, short hair, and still a natural brunette.
I know I need to fold up the skirt for the give-away box, along with some other things I haven’t worn in a while.
Okay — it’s gone. Along with some other things that had no reason to hang on and on. I don’t miss the skirt. I don’t really miss the woman who wore the skirt. Much.
Any clothing you can’t give away? Any clothing you regret giving away? (My bowling shirt, whose sponsor was a Waco, Texas mortuary.) Any snarky comments re: my mournful nostalgia for six closets, which is about as attractive as a Romanov pining for the good old days? (Six closets. Six! Coat closet, two hall closets, two huge closets in the bedroom and a linen closet.) Type away.