Hope and Pipe Dreams
It doesn't matter how large my closet is, I will expand to fill every spare cubic centimeter. I am not a fashionista. I don't live for shoes and hats and purses and belts. Yet my closet is full of stuff. Completely full. There isn't room for another item. My current closet is the size of a very small room, and it is packed.
The reason? I never get rid of anything. I've still got most of my wardrobe from the 90's, including those two funky hats from my single years that everyone said I looked just adorable in. So what if they're covered in a half-inch of dust? I might want to wear them again someday. It could happen. It could.
And the jeans. Oh god, the jeans. In sheer weight, denim is by far the most abundant substance in my closet. I bet there are three hundred pounds of jeans in there, enough to smother an intruder to death if he were stupid enough to go into my closet unescorted.
I can get rid of the occasional T-shirt or pair of shoes that have holes in the toes. Just last month I tossed at least 5 belts from the late-80's. One of them even had odd bits of metal randomly embedded in the leather. It was clearly a remnant of my "Madonna" phase, and I think I was very brave for letting it go.
But the jeans are different. The jeans are my life-blood, my impetus, my identity. I must keep them all.
Currently, they fall into these four categories:
A. The jeans that I wear daily. They fit comfortably. Nothing else to say.
B. The jeans that I can still get on if I lay down on the bed and suck in to zip them. These are only suitable for social occasions where there will be no sitting of any kind required. And I must be transported to the social event while lying flat in the back seat of a car or in the bed of a pick-up truck or in a livestock trailer that has been hosed out and no longer reeks of manure. There is horizontal and there is vertical and there is nothing in between with these jeans.
C. The jeans that I would fit into if I lost 10 or more pounds. These are the "hope" jeans. I hope that someday I will again fit into them again, but I know the odds aren't good. Only focused dieting or severe emotional trauma will ever render me small enough to fit into these jeans. I'm not good at dieting. Plus there's the whole "not wanting to" thing. That leaves severe emotional trauma. Maybe if Slag took a mistress, I might be able to wear them again, but I don't think it would be worth it. I've been emotionally stable for too long. It's all Slag's fault.
D. The "pipe dream" jeans. These jeans are at least ten years old and are so out of style that Goodwill probably wouldn't want them. They look like Barbie clothes to me now. I'm holding onto them in case I ever catch malaria, dengue fever, or some other disease so exotic that it takes the doctors weeks to figure out what I have. Before I finally get a diagnosis, I'll probably waste away to nothing and I'll need something wear. I can't be running around the hospital near death in baggy jeans. And I certainly won't have the strength to shop.
So there you have it. It's obvious. I have to keep them, if only to be prepared for life's uncertainies.
The reason? I never get rid of anything. I've still got most of my wardrobe from the 90's, including those two funky hats from my single years that everyone said I looked just adorable in. So what if they're covered in a half-inch of dust? I might want to wear them again someday. It could happen. It could.
And the jeans. Oh god, the jeans. In sheer weight, denim is by far the most abundant substance in my closet. I bet there are three hundred pounds of jeans in there, enough to smother an intruder to death if he were stupid enough to go into my closet unescorted.
I can get rid of the occasional T-shirt or pair of shoes that have holes in the toes. Just last month I tossed at least 5 belts from the late-80's. One of them even had odd bits of metal randomly embedded in the leather. It was clearly a remnant of my "Madonna" phase, and I think I was very brave for letting it go.
But the jeans are different. The jeans are my life-blood, my impetus, my identity. I must keep them all.
Currently, they fall into these four categories:
A. The jeans that I wear daily. They fit comfortably. Nothing else to say.
B. The jeans that I can still get on if I lay down on the bed and suck in to zip them. These are only suitable for social occasions where there will be no sitting of any kind required. And I must be transported to the social event while lying flat in the back seat of a car or in the bed of a pick-up truck or in a livestock trailer that has been hosed out and no longer reeks of manure. There is horizontal and there is vertical and there is nothing in between with these jeans.
C. The jeans that I would fit into if I lost 10 or more pounds. These are the "hope" jeans. I hope that someday I will again fit into them again, but I know the odds aren't good. Only focused dieting or severe emotional trauma will ever render me small enough to fit into these jeans. I'm not good at dieting. Plus there's the whole "not wanting to" thing. That leaves severe emotional trauma. Maybe if Slag took a mistress, I might be able to wear them again, but I don't think it would be worth it. I've been emotionally stable for too long. It's all Slag's fault.
D. The "pipe dream" jeans. These jeans are at least ten years old and are so out of style that Goodwill probably wouldn't want them. They look like Barbie clothes to me now. I'm holding onto them in case I ever catch malaria, dengue fever, or some other disease so exotic that it takes the doctors weeks to figure out what I have. Before I finally get a diagnosis, I'll probably waste away to nothing and I'll need something wear. I can't be running around the hospital near death in baggy jeans. And I certainly won't have the strength to shop.
So there you have it. It's obvious. I have to keep them, if only to be prepared for life's uncertainies.
posted by Jill at 8:55 AM
10 Comments:
Lord...we do the same thing. Only instead of jeans...my obsession is skirts. Glorious glorious skirts.
Oh...and I take issue with this statement about the hats you look adorable in:
I might want to wear them again someday. It could happen. It could.
You have to be single to wear hats? I'm not following the logic. Please to be explaining.
Wow, and I have such the opposite problem right now. Because that other person doesn't throw out ANYTHING, I have given away practically every item of clothing I own and have been living in the same pair of pants all winter. Hmmm, now that spring is here, I'd better get out there and do some shopping.
I'm convinced you are my wife's long, long sister. She has a closet just like that!
I cannot currently find one single pair of jeans I like to wear. They are either too low-cut, too high-waisted, too baggy, too tight, too short, wrong color etc. I hate to shop so I have given up. HELP!
I fit in my girlfriend's jeans. Long story. Actually not a long story, but I don't want to elaborate.
So you had like a Blossom hat? Ha! You never know when those'll come back in style.
Oh cripes I am SOOO with you.. lol
kara, It's not that I have to be single to wear hats. It's just that I hardly ever go places anymore where a hat seems like the thing to wear. I've reached the age when an exciting Saturday night is when we rent a movie interesting enough that it will keep me awake past 11pm, and wearing a hat with my "lounge wear" seems inappropriate.
whippersnapper, Throw out his stuff and buy yourself some new pants. I give you permission!
em, Yeah, I think it's left over from being a girl scout when I was a kid. A person has got to be prepared.
schmoopie, I feel your pain. I hate shopping for jeans. They never fit right. I end up with the same brand and style every time, because it's the only one that works for me. I've even taken to buying them on ebay, so I don't have to actually go to a store to get them.
evil spock, How convenient that you wear the same size. You don't share underwear, do you?
cheesy, Yep, every woman I know has some sort of "hope" outfit.
I'm sort of like that with my clothes, but had to get rid of much of my clothing because I share a miniscule closet with my husband. I envy your closet space!
Oh, and hats are splendid worn in the house with loungewear. I also found that, while not a hat, a rhinestone tiara does wonders for your mood when doing housework.
Here's how good of a writer you are: I would read at least seven more posts about the items in your closet. Could you please write them? I swear, there's huge food for emotional exploration within everyone's closets (and not just if one is gay!)...I could write a post for each pair of jeans in my closet, too, and why I bought it, have kept it, or would like to get rid of it.
So well done, Jill.
Twice a year (spring and fall) I dump pretty much everything that I haven't worn in a year.
But there are still those "hope and dream that one day they'll fit again items"... Which is stupid because I know damn well they'll ever fit again.
*sigh*
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