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28 December 2009

Old Clothing

The comments to my freefall post made me consider the contents of my closet, which are in some cases due to inertia and others sentimentality. I have a couple of tiny ratcatcher shirts from when I was about eight. I can remember well ironing them; I was too young to be able to iron the arms so I just left them (as I'd be wearing a jacket anyway) wrinkled.

I have a hand-painted silk artist-made floaty shirt that my ill-fated husband gave me. I wear it once every so often, and since it was never in fashion it can't very well go out. It has big snakes all over it. He caught sight of it near Pike Place one day, and decided it was me, which sentiment I chose not to examine closely.

I have the remnants of a billion T shirts designed and/or silkscreened by my students. I'm in the process of throwing them away, as they are somewhat hoary. And a lot of old band T shirts, that are hard to ditch (I love my Love Battery shirt!). I think I threw all my old opera Ts out already as I never liked the Seattle opera T shirt designs to begin with.

I went through a phase when I bought any green socks I saw, and low and behold in the garage the other day I stumbled across a bag of green socks. I threw most of them away, but am auditioning a few pairs; if they don't please out they'll go.

Sometimes I lament the fact that things like my brother's christening* gown, sumptuous in lily-of-the-valley lace, went who-knows-where after my mother died, but mostly I try not to think about it. There's no point, really, although the pointless things are certainly capable of poking holes in one just as if they had points.

* Never mind the fact that he wasn't christened as a baby, and only wound up passing that hurdle before his marriage in New Zealand. After all, I have a silver christening mug, and I've never been christened. My sisters were, though. I think.

posted by - 9:24 AM

There is a refreshing quality to sorting and discarding; I find I feel lighter psychologically when the old things are gone.
And a sobering quality when things are snatched from you with no foreknowledge or preparation. I will never forget the day of the Erase. It was by sheer instinct that I grabbed what I did from my parent's house. They'd had more time to pack than I did. I grabbed what I could from my old room and before I knew it, Father was herding us out the door. I never had the chance to grab anything from the Brownstone. It was too far away and, truth be told, was probably already gone by that moment. It all happened so fast. It wasn't until a few days later, after we arrived in Kansas, that I realized the only possessions I had left were the items in my satchel. I didn't even have a pair of socks come to think of it as I'd usually gone barefoot in the forest and that day was no different. Oh I loathed socks anyway. Good riddance I suppose.
I forgot to add, I'd love to see your snake shirt sometime, Osprey. Were they winged snakes or the Earth sort?
Mrs Grayson, that was a vividly recounted recollection and I hope did not distress you in its telling. The more shocking and far-reaching the event the more room it seems to take up in the mind, I think, whether we wish it to be so or not. Thank you for commenting here.
(And I'll see if I can take my picture in my snake shirt).
I am glad the Great Erase did not erase you, Valdora!

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