Back in the spring, I made a valiant attempt to rid my closet of the unfit to be seen in and the simply unfit in the ongoing war of me, my shelves and pie - a battle between dignity, discipline and the capacity of my closet. Despite what seemed like a battle well-fought, my closet still seemed to be full to bursting with items that, in some case, I filled to bursting. When I put on the fourth pair of pants one morning that were unfashionably (read: unbearably) tight, I declared war.
Exiled from the closet.
On Saturday, I paraded in front of the illustrious panel of one judge (Mom), and we opened fire on my closet. The first time she said that something looked "okay," I reached for clarification. "Does it look okay or does it look fabulous? I don't do this that often, Mom, so let's be real." Given permission to declare the dreckitude of any subsequent ensembles, clothes started falling into one of the following categories. There were the proud and the few who returned to the closet with a hero's welcome. And then caught in the line of fire was the slim pile of fatter clothes I've managed to undergrow and the fat pile of skinny clothes that I continue to outweigh. Behind enemy lines was a robust mound of clothes that were to be given away, bound for a new home; and lastly, those clothes so worn out or so...awful...that there was nothing to be done but trash. Mom perched on the desk chair and snipered bunchy seams, tight bottoms, and baggy tops.
Give it away, give it away, give it away now
As Colonel Mustard said, "This is war, Peacock. Casualties are inevitable. You can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs. Any cook will tell you that."
In the end, there were causalities. The fat and skinny will be allowed to stay, living for a time in the basement until we determine if I am going to stay at this size or continue to yo-up and yo-down. But the giant giveaway pile? It's collateral damage. I've already donated some long slender pants to my tall slender sister.
Lest you think that this war waged left me unchanged, I am a seasoned closet soldier now. As much as I love shopping (and I do), I'm going to try to impose a few new rules on myself:
1) I will not buy clothing that does not quite fit or flatter because it is on clearance.
2) I will accept that I am no longer in my 20s and able to sneak by with inexpensive pants for my rather significant rear end and will invest instead in well-tailored bottoms for my well-tailored bottom.
3) I will limit myself to buying clothes with style and not add to my collection of simple, suitable, solid tops that make me feel simple, suitable and, well, a bit boring.
4) I will not purchase any more denim until 2014.
5) I will go to work tomorrow to earn the money to pay for the clothes I need now that I've dispensed with all that I had.
I adore Project Runway and have been an avid fan since its debut season introduced us to the delight of Tim "Make it work" Gunn and a hit-parade of colorful characters like Jay McCarroll, Austin Scarlett, Santino Rice and, of course, Christian "Fierce" Siriano. Unfortunately for us all, Project Runway runs two seasons a year and still only comes on once a week (although they have beefed it up with a new 90-minute time slot).
To supplement your Project Runway addiction, I would recommend New Dress A Day, a blog on which the lovely and talented Marisa embarks upon a journey to make 365 garments in 365 days for $365. That's right - one dollar, one day, one dress. Each post features a before picture of a slightly heinous garment that's either oversized or ill-fitting or somehow rendered totally unwearable. Then there's a brief overview of how Marisa goes about making the transition from fug to fab and voila! The after picture featuring the day's fashion resurrection. And many posts also include charming little vignettes and photographic evidence of where the newly tailored garment was worn.
I love this blog for its simplicity and for the way she turned getting laid off from her job into a journey to something else. There's a certain joie de vivre in each post. Each outfit seems to build a story of friends and family, glasses of wine, hot dogs from street vendors, travels...and just life. As Michael Kors once said, "Lighten up - it's just fashion." Enjoy!
I started writing when I was six. About 20 years later, I started taking photographs. I see the world in snapshots. And for what those can't capture, there's always words, words, words. I live in Atlanta, Ga., with a bearded husband,two darling cats named Clementine and Lulabelle and a mountain of shoes. I love the South, Diet Coke, dandelions and a gaggle of nieces and nephews.
