Whoah. Just a minute. I must have lost my good sense. I realize I have a ton of clothes. A friend tells me I'm a fashionista and I have to admit she may be right.
In March I switch out the clothes: place the spring pants and shirts in the bedroom closet and store the winter clothes in the under bed boxes.
Funny how you see other people's closets in magazines and think they're the ones who have a ton of clothes when all along you're blind to the fact that your own wardrobe comes darn close. Maybe I was in denial. Now I'm distraught thinking how would I make space in my closets and drawers if I had a husband. It astounds me that I could have all these items hanging here there and everywhere.
Help! Help! I can imagine what the fashion stylist will tell me: I buy things I like piece by piece without achieving a cohesive look.
I wish it were spring already. I wish I could transfer the winter clothes to the under bed boxes. Frankly now I'm obsessed with what the stylist will pronounce when she looks over everything.
Here there everywhere. No kidding.
I didn't think I could be this hopeless.
Though to my credit everything is neatly organized on matching hangers.
Matching hangers. That's another thing.
Towels lined up from dark to light.
I'm not in my right mind folks.
Bless me father for I have sinned.
Nobody needs all these items of clothing.
Should I get married I enlist the fashion stylist to overhaul my wardrobe so that I can buy fewer things of better quality so I don't junk up the closets and drawers and leave my poor husband out on the fire escape in terms of storage options.
I use any tax refund I get to buy a pair of white pants and a pair of jeans that will fit me and that I'll look good in. For sure. Then I stop buying clothes because I have all I need for the spring and summer.
I'm aghast-that is the word-I'm aghast that I could have all this stuff. Shocked. That's what I am. Beyond belief.
I have gone on the Sartorialist web site and it is beautiful. Looking at the photos is a way to pick up ideas for my own wardrobe and get inspired.
It would be different if my apartment were in disarray and the contents were bulging. Then again I'm just rationalizing things by saying that so don't quote me on this. It would be different if I bought more expensive clothes as I wear out the things hanging in my closet now because then I wouldn't have the closets stuffed to the gills.
So that is my goal dear blog readers: to shop with a trained eye in the future.
I wish it were spring. I wish I could begin wearing the spring clothes. At least we have only three weeks until the season changes. Round here that does not mean instantly warmer weather however as soon as the calendar hits March 20 I'm going to do the closet switch.
This I can tell the stylist: I sometimes wear jeans to work and at other times I'm all decked out for business. A friend claims she's never seen me in the same outfit twice. That's fruit loops folks.
While the weather is in-between in the coming weeks I will wear a sweater I haven't worn all winter and wear the cashmere long sleeve tee shirts on their own without a jacket. I can return to wearing the navy tropical wool blazer in the early spring. I can begin to wear the black rayon jacket with hidden buttons.
I had no energy before and now I'm revved up thinking about this. Eating dinner most likely gave me the energy I lacked earlier in the day.
I don't need all these clothes. There's no excuse.
Let the three-week countdown begin.
I would love to use the stylist again if she works out this time. That's because there's no way I want to amass all this stuff all over again when the items I already have are discarded. I will only buy good-quality items that I can mix-and-match for a cohesive blend.
Yes I do wonder what the stylist will tell me when she takes a look at the two closets and the clothes hanging on the rod in the armoire.
Now: it is crystal-clear to me that I was born this way, with a love of fashion. I can honestly admit that the eras in my life dictated the kinds of clothes I wore and so I'm not alarmed like I used to be about the rocker chic clothes I wore in the late 1980s and early 1990s.
The changing seasons of our life warrant new approaches to shopping and dressing. In some ways I was possibly always ahead of the curve and then I settled down in terms of fashion. I regard my younger self with awe and respect for the choices she made: her life choices as well as fashion choices.
Do you see how it is? Look at yourself with a kind eye. I have learned to do this. It is easier said than done for a lot of us.
I have itemized in here the contents of my wardrobe when I was a young woman so I will not repeat the litany.
One thing I can tell you: find out what makes you happy and pursue it with zeal.
See. I've spent a half hour talking only of fashion. Not about anything else.
Sometimes I can believe it's what makes me tick. Not the schizophrenia. My love of fashion undoubtedly saved me and helped me recover and make my way in the world.
I owe this debt of gratitude to my younger self for daring to dream and then daring to dress herself according to her dreams.
We all have made fashion mistakes. Mine was a pea-green blazer silk-screened with punk rock images that surely didn't flatter me. What was I thinking? As a young woman I was fascinated with the unusual.
That is how we learn: as time goes by. We learn from our fashion mistakes. We live and learn.
I will now go and leave you to enjoy the rest of your night.
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