Nothing to Wear? by Julianna Rowe

Three Closets and Nothing to Wear by Julianna Rowe

Apparently I've become the curator of the Middleton Museum of Women's Clothing. 

Admission is free. Touching is encouraged, buying is not. I have three closets, not one, not two. Three. 

At this point I'm not sure if I own the clothes...or if the clothes own me. Some are work clothes, some are church clothes, some are "If a nice, unmarried gentleman accidentally shows up at my door" clothes. I already donated forty-three pairs of shoes, yet somehow I still have enough left to outfit a small marching band. Now I'm staring at three overflowing closets wondering if I should sell some of the clothes. Of course, that would require energy, and right now I don't have enough to organize a sock drawer. I have coats from the 1990s, beautiful sweaters, fancy jackets, and things that still have tags on them. Apparently Past Juliann was convinced Future Julianna attended galas every Thursday. Poor optimistic woman. Some of these clothes have memories stitched right into the seams. I wore this sweater on a first date. That blouse when I hit sales team of the year way back when and his jacket when life still felt a little easier.

 It's funny how cotton remembers things. Some of them even smell like...me. Yes, I wash them, so don't get all excited. But somehow they still carry a little whisper of the person who's worn them for years. You've seen those movies where someone dies and the family hugs an old sweater because it still smells like their loved one. Let's be honest, I seriously doubt my grandchildren will someday gather around saying, "Quick! Somebody get Grandma's cardigan! We need one last sniff!" If they do, please check them for a fever. Maybe that's why letting go of clothes is harder than it should be. They're not just fabric. They're little time machines hanging on plastic hangers. Still...maybe it's time. Maybe cleaning out a closet is like taking a long, hot shower. Not because clothes have bad spirits attached to them, but because sometimes we carry around old disappointments, old dreams, old versions of ourselves stitched into sleeves we no longer wear. Maybe letting go isn't losing memories. Maybe it's making room for new ones.

 Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go tell three closets that one of them is getting voted off the island. Pray for me. One of those sweaters has seniority.