I’ve just finished a massive clean-up of my wardrobe. OK, not exactly massive, given the size of my wardrobe; perhaps the word I’m looking for is thorough.
It’s amazing what a good cleansing can do not just for the skin, but for the soul. I feel so much better with the clothes all neatly arranged — all the clothes that I actually wear. All the others have gone straight to the donation pile. Some I’ve just worn once, some have seen a good bit of wear. But they are banished now, and are out of my life (as soon as that bundle goes out of the house, that is — that will probably take its own sweet time!).
And yet, there are some garments that simply refuse to give up so easily. There’s one pretty pink and beige set that has lovely gold work on it. Lil D wants me to get it altered for her. There’s the other green and white set with little white beads — a perfect summery dress for Lil D, if only I get around to altering it. And then there’s a beautiful red and black set that was a gift, but was ruined during the tailoring. I just can’t bring myself to toss it out.
I put these at the back, giving myself some more time to do the needful, to harden my heart and throw it all out ruthlessly.
These are the ones that make breaking up with them so hard. You still cling on in hope that they can be redeemed, that you can somehow make it work. Only time will tell if your decision was right.