The bee is back...
Apologies for a long absence from blogging. Business travel...jet lag...
The fairly spring-like weather of the past few weekends occasioned a somewhat premature seasonal closet changeover.
In previous years, I have postponed said exhausting up-and-down the staircases, forcing myself to wander the house in search of weather-appropriate garb as late as mid-June. This year, I was determined to be ahead of the wave, so to speak, and thus the semi-annual event unfolded, water bottles in hand.
In our 1741 home, closet space is at a premium, so I am obliged to utilize storage closets in:
1. The attic
2. The cedar closet
3. My son's fourth-floor extra wardrobe
4. Armoires galore
5. A storage facility I rent in the "downtown"
Another solution would be...FEWER CLOTHES!
Gasp!
I actually did lighten the load somewhat in sheer disgust at the gluttony of it all, guiltily filling seven Hefty Lawn & Garden bags full of castoffs, which I magnanimously toted to Goodwill Industries today...
watching the shocked face of the attendant at the forklift dropoff as groaning bag after groaning bag was swung his way. Off I went, tax receipt in hand.
The conclusion I have come to is: I am insane. No one needs these many changes of clothing. My other conclusion is: J McLaughlin owes me money. Or a big thank-you note. Or stock. Caroline at the Strafford PA store should come to my house, bringing me meals for a whole month. Maybe naming a dress "The Anne" or a handbag "The Queenie" would suffice.
Spousey says, why do all these clothes matter? Why do you need all this?
Ahhh. Men.
My theory in reply: we women are insecure. We worry, about our bodies, our looks, are we good enough, are we liked, could we do more, are our families and children and parents and colleagues happy...in short, our entire lives are an exercise in self-analysis, self-doubt and self-improvement to please others and to make our surroundings more beautiful. Clothing is our armor. A new dress, a lovely coat or jacket has the power to transform us, to highlight our assets and disguise our flaws. Alone at home, we may seem ordinary to ourselves...but clad in our finest, we sally forth, ferocity and fabulousness unleashed.
Of course, now that the closet changeover is complete...and the rows of lightweight Lillys, JMs, VVs, and such turn their profiles my way, awaiting their chosen moments...it is now rainy and 38 degrees. I am huddled over the computer, clad in pashmina and a pair of track pants.
In the meantime, the pastels gaze patiently at me as I shiver by...
An agony of options...
An explosion of color...
None too tidy, I might add...
Feet don't fail me now...
Waiting for warm,
ABL
