I woke up today around eleven (lucky me) remembering with a jolt that I had a one pm appointment for a moving quote. This meant only one thing; it was time to keep tackling Clothing Mountain. (What good would this guy’s opinion be without actually being able to see all the furniture under my discarded hordes* of pieces?)
Guys, I can repeat it til I’m blue in the face, but I am still – to this day still – shocked by how many pieces of clothing I have. Even with all my trackbacks, showing what I am and am not wearing, and what I’m getting mileage out of and what’s just languishing . . . I’m just repeatedly stunned. How did I let it get this far? Why couldn’t I stop myself and look at the largesse I’d acquired?
Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself – this is an outfit post, not commentary. Needless to say, I could do two years of nothing new and there’d be plenty in my closet. Oh, redhead.
Anyway. (Again.) Today’s all about the packing and organizing and shuffling and shuttling and a million little errands, so I aimed for comfort and summer ease:
But then I looked outside and it was kind of gray and I thought I’d better find another layer . . . . so then, this:
This sweater is one I literally – yes, literally – found buried at the bottom of my closet. I bought it when I worked at Bloomingdales (so that would be 2007) and I’ve worn it once, maybe twice since. It’s a nice piece, it’s cozy; it actually might even suit my upcoming graduate life swimmingly. I threw it on to check for shape and fit . . . and kept it on for today. (It then also gave me the first excuse maybe ever? To wear this bright pink belt.)
These are all pieces I’ve owned for at least two years (sandals and headband aside, which have both been in my possession for one). The dress has seen some mileage before, but the belt and the sweater? Are getting their first workout in minimum three years.
Yeah, I’m gonna sit on that and think about it. I’ll have a post for you soon, I hope.
Okay. Back to pulling apart my closet . . . and most likely my psyche in the mean time . . .
*should that be hoards? I mean, not grammatically but . . . .sigh. Oh, redhead.