Lately I've been simplifying. To de-clutter, and make some extra cash, especially this time of year.
I pull out all my clothes, look at each piece, and decide if I need it. Some stay, there are those that I know I will keep forever like the skirt I was wearing when Sam proposed to me, and some I know I'll eventually have to let go of. Then there are those that are on their way to be sold.
Today I did it again. Only this time I meant to be rock solid, and really get rid of things. That dress I've only ever worn once? Yeah, someone else will wear it all the time. Those skirts you've grown out of? Time to let go.
Then I got to a robe. My beautiful navy blue wool robe, with a silk polka dot hood. I'ts a little too small. I'm usually too warm to wear it inside. But I remember spotting it at the shop, hidden on the back of a pillar, and my heart skipped a beat. And I asked to see it almost in a panic, as if someone would grab it before I could. And how perfect it was.
And then like a little girl, I started crying. I hate crying. I'd rather eat a worm than have anyone see me cry. Actually I'd feel sorry for the worm. How about oilves? Gross.
And then I realized that my clothes aren't just things. To other people they are, but to me, they're my lifes work. Iv'e spent years accumulating all my clothes, and wearing them, and taking proper care of them. They are me. I didn't just walk into a vintage store one day and buy an entire wardrobe, these all come from different places, and different times of my life. And I remember buying them, and the excitement and thrill of finding that one of a kind, special piece. Wearing each one, and gosh what was I thinking paring that with those shoes, and when I wear this dress everyone calls me Snow White.
I think anyone who has a collection of any kind can understand. It's practically impossible to let go, because this is at it's core, your life. I'm sure it would be different if I had children, but for now my wardrobe is what I've created, something I'm very proud of, and something I have a terrible time letting go of. I get offended when people want to buy my things without them being offered because I think "I spent years of constant searching and building to have what I have, you expect me to just hand a part of it over?"
So here I am, surrounded by piles and racks of beautiful clothes, with a pile to let go of. I know you guys will give them good homes, much better than in a box under the bed. But I'm still attached to the robe. Maybe next time. Maybe never. I have lots of clothes I don't wear anymore that I can't even begin to think of selling. Perhaps one day I'll wear them again, or hopefully one of my little cousins will want to wear them.
