With the wind and the rain making a big mess of everything outside, I decided to stay in today. I had the bathroom to do, along with the laundry and a general clean-over. I’ve come to realize that since I found out I was pregnant, clothes have stopped holding that veil of fascination over me, and my motto is now – if I urgently need it, I’ll buy it. So for the time being I’ve bought three pair of jeans because those were the first things that stopped fitting me. And some loose-fitting tops and long cardies which cover up just enough. However every weekend I face the now-normal (and perhaps clicheed) question of what to wear? I’ve always had that problem, from ever since I can remember Friday and Saturday nights have found me sitting on my bed looking at my open wardrobe and complaining to all (my mother especially) that I had nothing to wear. Up until quite recently I knew deep down that it was not true – far from it, considering that last January my mother had to bring a carpenter over to build my entire bedroom wall as a wardrobe, and I cringed with embarassement when I removed everything from the old wardrobe in order for him to take it away. The look in his eyes said it all. My room was filled with clothes, shoes and bags and I had even taken over my brother’s wardrobe for my jackets and coats. So I took the opportunity to clean my wardrobe, gave half of my things away to cousins, and started afresh with my new wardrobe. However last time I looked in it, it was quite full again. Shocking, considering I now have a wardrobe here in England, one at my mother’s house, and another in our penthouse.
But the problem what to wear is now true. It seems like I have to start over, from the very basic (my underwear is now getting tight!) to coats and jackets. I’m making do with what I have, have removed my ‘normal’ clothes from the wardrobe, and yesterday set out to buy some longish tops and dresses to at least cover me through winter. I was lucky enough to find Benetton clothes on sale, and got some cardigans and dresses, and another visit to Dorothy Perkins was fruitful as well.
My downfall has always been, and is now more than ever, accessories. I left nearly all of my necklaces and bracelets and beloved bags at home, which no doubt my darling mother is now making good use of (although she always swears that she is not touching a thing. Yeah, right…) But the amount of jewellery I collected today whilst cleaning is frightening, considering it’s only a five-month collection. And the problem is also that with the place being small, I don’t have the best storage solution in the world, so I’ve decided as of next week, to start selling some of the things on the internet. Which I hate. Absolutely hate.
I can not give away clothes to cousins (the ones I like only, of course) without making such a big deal out of it. Checking and re-checking that I definitely won’t wear them again, or assuring myself that I will not ever make it into that size 6 skirt, not even if I starve myself to death a week before. And once I give them away, I’m always checking to see whether my cousins wear my exes, and how they do so. And I mean my cousins, not their parents. I once became so angry seeing a cousin’s mother wearing my ex-top. She was immediately cut off my list. And I felt like crying when I saw my once-favourite tee-shirt being used as a window cloth by my aunt.
I become too attached to the simplest of things, every handbag tells a story, every skirt reminds me of an event and each necklace takes me back in time..
So how about selling things to absolute strangers? Perhaps it will not feel as bad. Of course that means having to decide what to sell. Now that’s one big headache….