THE CLOSET MUSEUM

We have to get rid of things.  A lot of things. More on that later. However, this means that we are going through all of our closets and culling. You have heard that expression, not from Marie Kondo, but from some wardrobe pundit from long ago: If you haven’t worn it in a year, get rid of it.

A year? Phooey. Here is what I discovered in the back of my closet:

  • The beautiful red Chinese silk robe that I took on my honeymoon. You read that correctly. It had sentimental value, damn it, despite the fact that the only part of my body that it would actually fit around today is my arm. It was in perfect condition! I am hopeful that some dewy eyed bride-to-be will see it in Goodwill and grab it. I know this is wishful thinking. Who wears robes on their honeymoon these days? Who wears clothing on their honeymoon these days? Are there even honeymoons any more?
  • Corduroys. Five pairs of corduroy pants. I am thinking that corduroys went out of fashion in, say, 1990? I would like to add, however, that all five of those pairs still fit.
  • Two cashmere sweaters, one black, one red. I stopped being able to wear sweaters when menopause hit. Now I look at sweaters in catalogs and wonder how any woman can wear a sweater without, you know, sweating.
  • A pair of three inch high pumps. These would kill my feet in thirty seconds. As I looked at them, they seemed so low. Any self-respecting woman with style and a high pain threshold, who doesn’t blink at five inch heels, would chuckle at how quaint they are. Vintage. A lot of women go for vintage, right? I hope they shop at Goodwill.
  • Tube socks. I burned with shame at the fact that I once wore them. I burn with shame typing these words.
  • Bobby pins? What on earth?
  • Belts that, these days, I could wear only around my upper thighs. When did I give up on the idea that I would someday be a size 10 again? Apparently it was yesterday.
  • A vast quantity of sleeveless shells. I used to wear sleeveless things, evidently. This must have been back in the days when I had toned arms from hefting children. See “hoping to be a size 10 again,” above.

This is proof of the old adage, “If there is room for it, why not just hang it in the back of your closet and forget about it for twenty years?” This may not actually be an adage, but it is a truism.

I cannot bear to think of what is up in the attic.

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