I’m not one to quit on a garment just because it’s got a little wear *

Yesterday my OCD tendencies were raging and I decided it was time to clean out my closet. This is a bi-annual event at the house of Big Mama wherein I give away any clothes that did not make it on my body for the season that is now over, and I sort through what remains of my wardrobe for the upcoming season. Fortunately, I had a helper.

Caroline is modeling a summer top with a fab winter scarf and a lime green bag that gives the outfit that extra something special. This is an indicator of how the afternoon went. She would pick and choose items that she thought needed to be on her body immediately and I would stop what I was doing to help her accessorize. Good times.

I made some interesting discoveries in my closet. First of all, I am the proud owner of no less than 16 black sweaters. I wish I could say that each one has distinguishing features, but really they are all just black sweaters with their redeeming quality being that they hide a multitude of toddler sins. Y’all would think that maybe I could weed a few of them out, but the answer is no because what if something happens to the other 15 and I no longer have a black sweater?

Secondly, I realized that while I proclaim to have no pack rat tendencies, I found this disturbing scene lurking in the far back corner of my closet. Just seeing it was enough to make me break out in a cold sweat.

Maternity clothes. Taking up precious closet space is an array of garments that can only be described as some of the ugliest clothing to have ever adorned my body. Why do I keep them? No, seriously I’m asking why?

I really do pride myself on being able to throw out the old, evaluate my wardrobe and think about what I need for the new season. It is one of the few things I do with this level of organization. In fact, it’s the only thing I do with this level of organization.

But I do have some things that I look at every time I purge my closet and I just can’t say goodbye. I’ll share them with you.

Denim vest circa 1991. This, at one time, was the crowning glory to every outfit I wore. My absolute masterpiece was a bandana print wrap skirt with a white t-shirt topped with this denim vest. I give that outfit credit for singlehandedly helping me get asked out on several dates in the early 90’s. The skirt is long gone, but I cannot say goodbye to this vest. It’s like an old friend who isn’t a good influence, but yet brought me so many great times.

Y’all might think that I would be ashamed to put on a garment that confirms that I was in college in 1992, but you would be wrong.

I’d like y’all to notice a commonality between this sweatshirt and the one featured above…they are both enormous. Can you guess why? Whoever guessed that it’s so I could wear them with leggings back in the early 90’s wins. Y’all can’t see the logo, but this sweatshirt was bought courtesy of my Daddy’s credit card (a little bonus I added while buying my books for the semester) back when there was still a Southwest Conference.

Now before y’all accuse me of being a Britney Spears wannabe, let me explain that these are a true family heirloom. They belonged to my Aunt Sandra when she was a teenager and while in the interest of privacy I won’t reveal how long ago that was, I will say that you can tell a true pair of vintage Levis by whether Levi has a capital E on the tag or not. If there is a capital E, then they were made before 1950. These have a capital E. They are one of my most treasured possessions and I don’t wear them anymore…well, not in public anyway.

So there you have it, the skeletons in my closet. In spite of my refusal to get rid of these items, I did manage to load up an entire box of other things. Caroline thoroughly enjoyed herself and kept asking me “how’re we doing with our teamwork Mama?” as she tried on EVERY single thing she could get her hands on, including this.

Does it make y’all wonder if maybe I really am Sydney Bristow?

*Does anyone know what movie the title of this post is from? No prizes will be awarded, it’s for pride only.