Memory Mayhem

wardrobe dilemma
a young woman staring at all her clothes

This season, if you are like most people, you would like to lose weight, turn your pasty-white skin into something more sensual and get toned and firm. I am firmly in the category of “all of the above” plus, my modest spring cleaning goal this year is to expand my closet space. If closet space is gold, I am pathetically at mud level. For those who know me, this is a rather a desperate and impossible mission which gets tackled with regularity and equal futility.


There are three factors to squarely blame for my condition. First, I am a bit of clothes horse (my husband furrows his eyebrows at this point and say “bit”?) and I am a true sentimentalist (you know, clothes can be your friends/memories) and also I am my mother’s daughter (don’t throw that away! That’s real wool!).


The result? My drawers are groaning and overflowing. Both of my bottom chest drawers are broken; too much stuffed inside.


Since it has been so darn cold and there is nothing else to do on the weekend, I started to clean in earnest. Out came the memories, like a dirty old grey sweatshirt with the words “Jackman Rebels” emblazoned across it. I must have gotten this from some high school story I covered way back when I was a street reporter. I can’t even remember. But I would never get rid of this shirt. Just think, I might have to get back into investigative journalism someday and need to pose as a high school student (my husband now lifts his chin slightly and then drops it while saying sotto voce “not”")


How about my Hello Kitty t-shirt? It’s pink, really cute and shows my belly. It was worn during a time of extreme adolescence. I mean 30 in L.A. is like being 18, right?



How about my high quality oversized “Oprah” sweatshirt, which has endured dozens of washings? The Queen of Daytime TV gave it to me personally after I interviewed her at her studios in Chi-town. I brought it home, and swore to keep it pristine. But my then boyfriend started wearing it. There he was: handsome guy wearing an Oprah sweatshirt. Sort of like George Clooney wearing a “I’m single, serious, sensitive and thoughtful” shirt. Needless to say….a veritable chick magnet. Funny, how often he wore it while we were dating. He wore it all the time: at home, to the market, on his way to do errands, on overnight trips. Hmm! Now he married to some heiress, probably because of that sweatshirt. Of course, I can’t throw away this damn sweatshirt! The memories, the memories!


The bright spot in my journey to ultimate closetdom is that I am planning a covert takeover of my husband’s closet. He doesn’t know it yet. He may never know it. I studied his habits, and he rarely looks down at the lower left part of his second closet. That is where I plan to “borrow” some space by stowing my “masculine” and darker colored clothing, larger jackets and sweater, so they blend right in. This would indeed be a victory of sorts. Yes, a hollow victory, because I really didn’t clean anything up, but a successful one, because I did garner more space.


You see, dear reader, I cannot empty my drawers. I have too many stories of which to “draw upon.” Argh!