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| Cutting ties with the past: all of my old clothes, ready for the charity pile |
I went down memory lane this afternoon. Most people might do
this by flipping through a photo album or watching home videos. But for me it was
just a matter of scrounging through my closet (or closets). Time to do some
cleaning out, I decided. But, oh so hard, because of the emotional ties I have
with my clothes.
Did I mention that one of my favorite shows is Hoarders? And
the more extreme the hoarders are, the more intrigued I am. I always thought
the reason I liked that show was that it maybe gave me some sick feeling of
superiority. I figured that compared to those people on that show, my house is
absolutely pristine. So what if there might be an occasional dust ball or two
in the corners, or that my kids’ closets are disaster areas? At least my house
is inhabitable. How people could let their dwellings get that way has been a
source of fascination for me.
So what does that have to do with my clothes? I realized
today that going through and pitching my old clothes was a more difficult task
than I thought it would be, simply because of the sentimental ties I had with
particular pieces. Isn’t that what hoarders do? They develop emotional
connections with their “stuff,” even the trash, to the point where they can’t
bear to throw it out. Today I had my own amount of “trash” to sift through.
Guess I’m a clothes hoarder.
They say that if it’s been over a year since you’ve worn
something, you should get rid of it. Some of the stuff I wafted through today
dated back 25 years. Good thing my kids weren’t home as I was doing this. I can
just hear them now. “Hey Mom, the 1980s called and wants its clothes back.” So
what sorts of garments took me down memory lane today?
·
Probably the oldest garb in my closet (well, in
my son’s closet) was the suit that my mother bought me when I was a senior in
college. That would be 1986. She bought me the suit so that I would have
something to wear on interviews. Let’s see…I probably haven’t worn that suit
since 1990. But hey, it was my first suit. How could I possibly get rid of
that?
·
Really neat dress pants that I bought at Casual
Corner when I was just out of college. They were expensive. In fact, I put them
on layaway (do they even have that now?). Those pants got plenty of wear until
I had my first baby in 1995. Then, for some reason, they didn’t fit anymore.
They’re classic trousers so they don’t go out of style, so I’ve just been
trying to get back down to size (for the past 18 years) so I can wear them
again. Okay, time for them to hit the charity box. The same goes for all the
other dress pants I had that are now two sizes too small. I guess I figure if I
ever do get back down to size, by that time it would be such a big occasion I
should treat myself to a new wardrobe.
·
The blouse that I wore on my first date with my
husband. And the shirt that I bought special to wear on the second date with my
husband. I remember those nights as if they were yesterday. And, yes, I
remember exactly what I wore. The temptation was strong for me to keep these
pieces, but I resisted and they are now bagged up and ready to go to their next
destination.
·
My “skinny” red dress that I always thought I
looked hot in – the one that I wore on Christmas Eve 1989, right after I
liberated myself from a go-nowhere relationship with an old boyfriend. I did
really look good in that dress. Unfortunately, I probably couldn’t slip the
thing above my knees today. Out it goes.
·
My little black mini skirt – the one I wore in
the early 1990s any time I wanted to feel sexy. Back then I had some pretty
damn nice looking legs and made a point to show off those attributes whenever I
had the chance. I first wore that skirt when my then-boyfriend (now husband)
went on a double date with another couple who were married (whom I’d just met
that night). It was near Christmas and we wined and dined and made merry. Too
much wine, as it turned out. I found myself in my own self-imposed drinking
contest with the other woman (a good friend today, might I add) and lost. By
the end of the night I was sitting on the floor in front of a toilet in a bowling
alley bathroom (with a Peter Pan hat on, complete with a feather in it and
everything) throwing my guts up. Somehow, Ed managed to get me home. Still, the
event didn’t dissuade me from wearing the skirt again and again. Wasn’t so much
fun to go through that night, but I can chuckle now after so many years have
passed. Unfortunately, I reasoned that I’m probably too old to wear a mini
skirt now (not to mention that the wool fabric has a couple of small holes in
it), so I have officially parted with the mini skirt.
These are just a few things. There are others – print blazers
that were popular in the 1990s but not so much now; sweater vests that my
grandmother knitted for me; professional clothes that I wore when I had
professional jobs trying to climb the corporate ladder as a young
whippersnapper. And maternity clothes (okay, I was ready to part with those).
So I went through memory lane one more time today,
reminiscing as I pulled out each piece of old clothing. Yet I did something
that I haven’t been able to do in all these years. I broke those ties with the
past. Perhaps holding on to too much of the past has the capacity to clutter
one’s life – even to the point where it crowds out potential for the future.
And they’re just clothes, right? Tangible stuff that can be
replaced with more tangible stuff down the road. Thinking more about it, I guess
the clothes are merely a trigger for the memories I already have. And the
memories are always with me, despite what I may or may not have in my closet.
In the end, maybe it’s not about the clothes at all, but what’s within me.
Looking at it that way makes it easier to depart with my so-called “treasures”
of the past.
On to new things I suppose. And remembering that the true
treasures are not the tangibles, but the memories (good and bad) of times past.
It’s those cherished, priceless memories – things that cannot be bought for any
price – that make life worth living.
Still, if I can ever find another figure-flattering “skinny”
red dress that makes me look mighty fine, consider me there. 
