I’m saying goodbye to some close friends this week. Namely some favorite tee-shirts and things (and when I say things, I mean under garments). The test of time has claimed the lives of some of my favorite clothes. Slight frays have become holes, tears and rips. There’s even been “collar separation” in some cases. In Julie’s words, “God, you can’t keep wearing that.” And she was right. So, I’ve been sorting through some of my clothes and consigning them to the trashcan.
But before you think I’m a little weird I should mention that when some of these “aged garments” are little past their prime, they do get reclassified as “gym only.”
So how old are these clothes? I hear you cry.
All of have celebrated a decade in age, while some of my old tees are more than fifteen years old. Yes, astounding I know. Hey! What do you mean shocking? That’s a little rude, my faithful reader.
Look, the thing about me is that I can’t things go if I really like them. It’s why there are so many restraining orders against me. Instead of shame, I see these restraining orders as merely an endorsement of my affection for something, but I digress. The point is when I find an item of clothing that I enjoy wearing; I will keep on wearing it.
But for fifteen years? C’mon, Simon. What kind of condition are these things in?
Not bad, actually. I treat my possessions with respect and I’m a gentle person (and lover—that’s an FYI for the ladies). And it’s not just clothes, but with everything. I don’t own a book with a cracked spine or a CD with a broken jewel case. My car and bikes are treated with respect to reduce wear and tear. So my things look good until the day comes to retire them.
I suppose this is why Julie frustrates me so much. She has a bull in a china shop approach to her stuff and they look like they’ve suffered trench warfare after she’s finished with them. She’s a brute, ladies and gents. It’s why we don’t have children. We’d be forever gluing arms and legs back on.
Now, I know I may have lost your trust and respect among some of you, but if an item of clothing feels good, don’t you keep on wearing it? Yeah, you know I’m right. It’s just that I know how to make it go the extra mile. There’s nothing wrong in that, is there?
Well, I’m off down to the mall to do a little shopping, but while I’m away, dish the dirt on your wardrobe. What’s your favorite piece and how old is it?
I have a few t-shirts that are nearing 10 years old, myself. They don’t have holes, fraying or anything, so like you, I’m keeping them. If a piece of clothing has a hole larger than a pin point, it’s time to toss it. But first, Craig & I have some fun tearing said garment.
I’m not as nice with my other things, however. I constantly break the spines in books (can’t read near the crevices without doing so), & I have to buy a new purse every 3-6 months (one of the reasons I don’t pay more than $30 for a purse).
My old tshirts are for sleeping in, mostly because they are the softest and most comfortable. And I don’t care what they look like, lol. Old sweaters are the best though, they just get more and more snuggly.
See, I knew I wouldn’t be alone.
Most of my oldest clothing is still in good shape because I gained some weight about 5 years ago. I only had to put away some shirts and my loose tshirts became a more comfortable fit. But jeans I had to buy all new. So now I have some well worn favorites I wasn’t ready to let go of that have sat in a closet waiting for me. I have found it is so much more satisfying to donate good jeans because they are fall off baggy than to throw them away for having giant holes in them.
If I have a T-shirt I like, I keep it until it falls apart. One of my prized shirts is a Tony Hillerman “Sacred Clown” that I bought in Arizona or New Mexico in 1994 while doing my 680 mile drive around all of the places Chee and Leaphorn visit in their books. I also had a “Ghostway” version, but that one gave up the ghost (forgive me, I couldn’t help it) a few moons ago.
I like my themed T-shirts and Cindy feeds my obsession. For mowing the lawn I have one that says “Lawn Patrol”. For gardening, I have one that says “Loves to play in the dirt”. I can’t even count all the book and reading-oriented shirts I have. For my lay around the house and do nothing days (as few as they are), I have one that says, “I’m up, I’m dressed, what more do you want?” Another of my favorites is from Beale St. In Memphis: “It’s not white, it’s not black, it’s the blues” with a few musical notes around it.
Some people just don’t appreciate a good t-shirt, David.