I’ve spent the last two days cleaning out my closet. In theory, I’m totally behind the whole ‘if you haven’t worn it in the last year, get rid of it’ rule. But… I have several things I just can’t bear to part with. Things I haven’t worn since… well… the 90s. I know it’s ridiculous. I know they’re clogging up my closet and my life. It’s a battle I just can’t win. It goes like this:
Me: Where should we start? OK, how about the silk Minnie Mouse skirt. When was the last time you wore that, 1997?
Also Me: Are you kidding? That skirt is timeless. And adorable. I can still totally pull it off. Remember, I used to wear it with that short sleeved off-white angora sweater with the pearl buttons?
Me: That sweater was ridiculously impractical. Where on Earth does short-sleeved and angora make sense together in one garment? Certainly not Arizona. The feel of rabbit hair clinging to the sweat running down my back is a nightmare I won’t soon forget.
Also Me: That’s why that sweater was donated years ago. But the skirt could totally work at some point still.
Me: So why hasn’t it been worn it in 10+ years?
Also Me: I don’t know… It’s a little, young, I guess. Kinda feels like I’m trying to be a teenager from the 1950s. Which was cute when I was a teenager… But I feel like if I found the right top it would be sort of Brenda Leigh Johnson from The Closer. Come on.
Me: Whatever. Moving on. This top hasn’t been worn since Jr. Prom, almost half a lifetime ago. It needs to go to a good home where someone will love it again, don’t you think?
Also Me: No way! It’s a denim and rhinestone halter top! You can’t get more awesome than that. And that prom dress, with the white tulle skirt, that I wore the silver platforms with? WAS RAD. I wish I still had that skirt. I wonder what happened to it…
Me: Oh my god. That was kind of embarrassing even then. What would you possibly wear it with now?
Also Me: I think it’s kind of working with this. Cheetah print is super back in for fall, I heard.
Me: You’ve been drinking the breakfast wine again, haven’t you? There is nothing OK about this outfit.
Also Me: You’re wrong. And boring. It’s maybe not something I could wear outside right now, but I like to think there’s an alternate universe where this might be just adorable. Possibly somewhere in Texas.
Me: That’s utterly insane. Why are you winking?
Also Me: Because that’s what denim and rhinestone cowgirl types do, don’t they?
Me: There are no words. OK, this dress must go, don’t you think? You bought it to wear as a dance costume, but it never got used. So you’ve never actually worn it for anything more than dancing around in your living room so you could see it twirl.
Also Me: All true. But seriously, it’s the best for twirling and dancing. Like I kind of really want to wear it to ballet class, but I haven’t gotten up the guts to yet. Also, I’m not convinced it couldn’t work in the winter with some rad tights or leggings underneath and black boots and a little jacket. It’s really cute.
Me: Yes, that might work if you wore black lipstick, got a full-sleeve tattoo and cut yourself. But until you go emo, there’s not a chance in hell you can pull that off.
Also Me: I’ve always wanted to do a ‘goth’ look. I know it’s called ’emo’ now, but it was goth when I was in high school. I think I smile too much for it, otherwise I really would do it. Fishnets and combat boots and everything. Can’t I just wear fishnets and combat boots and not cut myself and have a crabby look on my face all the time?
Also Me: Lame. I’m still keeping the dress.
Me: I know we can agree on these pants, right? They have to go.
Also Me: Alright, I know they’re kind of ridiculous. They’re wide-leg, flowy dress pants with a slit up to mid-thigh on each leg. Just in concept they’re a little out there. But hear me out: someday in the future I might be invited to a costume party where we’re all supposed to come dressed as spies. Do you know how easily I could get to a small gun I have holstered on the inside of my right thigh if I wear these pants? They are clearly the best fancy, high fashion spy pants ever made.
Me: Why are you jazz-handsing?
Also Me: Because these pants make me feel like Liza Minnelli.
Me: Yes. This shirt?
Also Me: No, I’ve never worn it, and I never will, but what asshole throws away or donates a ‘Best Mom’ t-shirt made by her kids?
Me: True. The hand-print placement is unfortunate. Leather pants you can’t even get over one thigh?
Also Me: So many things could happen that would make these totally valuable again. I could lose 20 lbs and leather pants could come back into style.
Me: Were these pants ever in style?
Also Me: I could take a leather-working class and learn to make these pants into a lovely purse.
Me: Definitely probable, if not likely.
Also Me: An 80s hair band themed costume party!! All I would need is a torn t-shirt and a bandana! (And again lose the 20lbs, of course. But a party like that would be worth losing the 20 lbs for.)
Me: You have lost your goddamn mind. What about this tank-top that you’re too embarrassed to even attempt to put on (which is saying a lot, since you’re obviously willing to put on almost anything)?
Also Me: Well now who’s totally crazy? Why would I get rid of this? We have a romantic tropical beach 10 year anniversary trip booked for next January. I’m obviously going to get super skinny, tan and toned before then and buy a cute white bikini. If I donated this before then I would be a fool. It’s clearly the only other thing I’m even going to need to pack.
Me: Well that, fine sir, is some logical thinking. I don’t even know why I bother.
Also Me: I don’t either.