I'm Cleaning My Closet

So it's Spring Break, and I'm cleaning out my closet. Seriously, I'm cleaning out my closet! Well, not at this exact moment. Right now, I'm taking a break. I've been at it for 2 1/2 hours, and to tell you the truth it's a bit depressing. You see, I've been sorting my gaucho pants (Do you remember those?), walking shorts, jeans, slacks, trousers (from my oh,so professional stage), shorts, skorts, and capris. According to a recent article in Good Housekeeping magazine on decluttering, if you haven't used or worn something in 43 years, you should probably get rid of it. (OK, it was one year, but I'm taking baby steps.)

So, let's talk about jeans. I soon realized that denim purchased before 2008 (give or take a year) probably did not contain any Lycra, Spandex . . . oh, let's just call it what it is, expandability. Therefore, they should be tossed. More importantly, if they are a size smaller than what you are presently wearing and lacking that st-r-r-etch-ability factor, they're a definite member of the "out o' here" pile. I know they looked cute with that precious little top you splurged on at the beach a few years ago, and you are planning on auditioning for The Biggest Loser, but friend to friend, you need to get rid of them.

And speaking of tops. Well, they too have an expiration date. And here comes the depressing part. I'm getting older. (You probably are, too.)Puffy sleeves and bare arms probably aren't my best look anymore. Better to get rid of them, lest I wake up one morning feeling like a schoolgirl (It does happen occasionally.)and recklessly don a don't.

The hardest part of cleaning my closet has to be the shoes. While some people hear the Imelda Marcos story and shudder with disdain, I view it as inspirational. So, I've spent the morning with my wedges, platforms, mules, sling backs, espadrilles and pumps (just to mention a few), and let's just say, the time spent was special. One particular pair of navy suede platform heels took me back. I can still remember the dress that prompted the purchase of those platforms. Removing the lid from another box I discovered the periwinkle blue wedge sandals and sat quietly for a time, reminiscing on the moments we had shared. Misty-eyed, I opened yet another box and was greeted by the gold-flecked, acryllic heeled evening shoes. OK, sometimes you choose some bad ones. Out o' here!

I know what you're thinking. Why is she writing when she still has jackets and dresses to sort? I hear you. You are right, and I will clothes . . . close.