When I was in college, I sold a bunch of my clothes to a consignment shop.I probably had gained too much weight to fit in them anymore, and as always, I was in need of money.
Maybe six months or a year after I had sold a batch of my clothes, a woman came into the Hallmark shop I was working at wearing an outfit that was really familiar to me. I recognized it as being a Carole Little outfit, and told her as much, but I went too far when I heard the words come out of my mouth, “I used to have that–”
I had to stop myself. Same city, and yes, I really DID “used to have that outfit”. I shut up very quickly–because I realized that it very likely was “my” outfit.
Why do I bring this up now? Because the other day, I was driving down the road and saw a woman in a denim baseball jacket with blackwatch plaid sleeves . . . and I had to wonder if it was mine. Yes, it’s true, the show What Not to Wear was based on a true story–my life–but back in the day, I did own a Gap men’s baseball jacket with blackwatch plaid sleeves. Worse still, I wore it with a matching blackwatch plaid baseball hat with floral embroidery that I had purchased at GapKids.
seriously, it was kind of cute. And this woman walking down the street didn’t have the hat, which made me kind of sad.
But I wonder if “normal people” (seeing as how I have no sense of what “normal” is) have as much of an emotional attachment to their clothing as I do. I still remember my Lee purple corduroys that I had when I was 14 (I ripped them when I got down from a heating vent I was sitting on–it was my favorite place to sit and look out the window when I was in the psych hospital . . . see, who remembers stuff like this?!) and my blue plaid Esprit skirt I got in my senior year of high school (not to mention the wonderful “uniform plaid” skirt I bought at Unique in the city) and my Banana Republic plaid blazer that I got a $50 price adjustment on even though it was past the 14 days . . . and I could go on, and on, and on.
So seriously . . . do “normal people” remember their clothes the way I do? is this merely idolatry, or is it some other kind of sickness–some variation on my OCD, perhaps?!
I REALLY love my clothes. and I’m guessing there’s something wrong with that.