Helaine was observing as I hauled another pair of pants from the bedroom closet. She was referring to pants about to go to charity.
My read is: “Pleats are out.”
We’ve been in this house twenty years. I very well may have twenty year old ‘closetwear.’ One accumulates over time.
“Isn’t this how trends begin?” I asked Helaine, thinking someone’s got to be first. To summarize her answer: No trend will ever start with me.
Too tight. Too short. Too out-of-style. My closet is full of toos.
More pants fit than I expected. Since I am not currently near the bottom of the weight cycle that was a small surprise. It doesn’t take me off the hook, but it could have been very demoralizing–what I was expecting.
“You’re not wearing that anymore.”
Just five words and Helaine was dispatching pants and shirts to large dark green plastic bags. Next week I’ll drop them off in town where they’ll go to help the less fortunate. Now they too can dress out-of-style!
I haven’t thrown out anything I’ll wear. We’d have to go weeks without a washing machine before any of these finds would be considered. There’s nothing I have in the same quantity Stef has jeans, but I still had way too much of lots of stuff.
Some day we’re going to move. I’d like to be away when that happens.