It was a rainy day so I decided to work inside of my closets,
Over the years I gradually awarded my closet number from one in the master bedroom to other rooms as well on the second floor.
With a desire of transform my own closets into something
closer to my ideal - dividing items by three seasons, winter, summer and in-between, then sorted by colors. I begin in the closet I use the least and realize that this
will be as much an exercise in grief as release. I tossed a half dozen dresses
I‘ve got crammed in here and a dozen sweaters and more than ten pieces
of mini/long skirts. But when I came across a bunch of special outfits I’ve worn
only once, despite my effort to reduce my attachments, these seem too
intrinsically “good” to forsake, can't bear to give away, because each filled with wonderful memories.
I just can’t seem to let most items go. There are still 20
pairs of jeans and equal number of dresses/coats plus a dozen of designer handbags, not counting 30 pairs of name or nameless shoes; because I believed I was attracted by the unique craftsmanship or simply surrender to some big designer names. Even I whittled my wardrobe down to
what I’d actually wear today, one closet is still not enough.
Through the process, I found out one unwise shopping habit was that the
most pieces I boxed were those cheap buys - they ended at my home only
due to low price tags, not because they suited me well.
What I’ve found in my closets is a reflection of who I’ve
been and who I am, if not who I’d like to be. I am sentimental, confused, and
conflicted. These are not intrinsic flaws or virtues, nor are they permanent
states of being. I am bound to changes.
I should buy garment that I can wear today or tomorrow, not bring home anything that needs to be stored.
cotton lace top and jean skirt
