THERE ARE TWO QUESTIONS no husband or partner should ask a woman, and both begin with “How many?” Both inquiries are gasoline on the fire that is a woman’s soul, and while neither question should ever be either asked or answered, I’m sure you’ll agree on which of the two is far more deeply private, far more tied up in secrecy, and way more important to the ongoing health of any relationship. That’s right, sister: it’s the question that ends in the word “shoes.”
Ain’t nobody’s business if you shoe. Nope. No way, though the other day, after almost buying boots, I asked myself the question, “Marion, dear, how many pair of boots do you own?” I had no idea. I only knew that I did not have this particular pair, and it got me thinking about what they represented to me at that moment. Not much, perhaps given the economy–or nothing at all, as it now seems days after the non-purchase.
Back home, I went into my closet and began to tally up a shoe or two and suddenly, blessedly, was transported to a whole new line of thinking. It was not one of shame, not guilt—or even embarrassment. It was one of story. Every single item in my closet, I realized, had a story attached.
We’ve talked about this before, when I wrote about how my sister’s closet is not my own. But this is not that. This is memoir. And is this crazy economy, when everything seems like too much, all of us are going into our pantries and attics and making do. Me, too. I’m discovering pantry ingredients I tucked into shelves that I am now, finally, learning how to cook.
TSP Sister Paige has been attacking boxes in her basement, and, as a result, had the brilliant idea to initiate a cookbook swap that is absolutely right on in these mid-winter/mid-recession doldrums. For the price of a mere blog comment you’ll get a surprise in the mail in the form of a free cookbook. Cool. And while we cannot do such a blind swap with our clothes—there’s that whole size thing to consider—we can turn our closet contents into story.
I’m calling it “What Was I Thinking?” And it begins with this shirt.
Though I have owned it for nine years, I have worn it exactly once. Yes, that is glitter that outlines the flower design. And those are pearlized sequins sewn into the fabric. Uh-huh. If you know me, you know I wear black a lot and other than that, my closet is mostly jeans and man-tailored shirts, and that dressing up means something on sale from Eileen Fisher. In other words, this is my only glitter moment. And you know what? It’s not going anywhere, since simply having it in my closet makes me feel like I shine. What was I thinking? I was thinking that I’ll need this one day, and on the day I wore it, I really did.
You? What were you thinking–and about what suspect garment that now hangs in your closet?
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{ 22 comments… read them below or add one }
This is so timely. For me a, dressing up also typically means something on sale from EF which is fine as I live in one of the most casual and temperate cities – Austin, Tx. But…
In a few weeks I go to Chicago where it is COLD and they dress up, where my baby brother will remarry a woman in a small but nonetheless formal wedding (not in the wedding party so no bridesmaid dress to hide in). She is something of a socialite there and so….
I face a prenuptials dinner/afternoon wedding in front of my extended family with no clothes OR shoes that will do. There will be photographers.
I am stymied – do I buy outfits I will likely never wear again (I am already chafing against that idea) to fit in or do I put together something I might reasonably wear again even though it will render introductions useless. I will visually be the “one of these things is not like the others”.
To thine own self be true? OR It is their big day and I don’t do anything to distract?
Halp!
i love that shirt marion!
I have a jacket, a zebra print jacket.
It is a cinch jacket, short, a tie around the middle, and I LOVE it.
I’ve worn it once, I take it out and try it with an outfit, only to hang it back up. But I refuse to get rid of it, It was the jacket I got to meet my boyfriends parents. I had on a dim red lipstick and great fitting jeans. My hair was perfect and the whole night was filled with wine and steak.
I felt like a movie star in this… I still do.
Yes, it’s zebra print… Yes, it’s staying!
Dear Texas Deb: To thine own self be true. The day, the weekend ain’t about you; it’s about the bride. Give her the option of using your dress code as a conversation opener. Ask me how I know this! Actually, no, don’t. Just trust me: you’re better off not trying to fit in.
Cheers, and enjoy the weekend and stay warm!
4″ blue and purple sequined shoes, worn once, the night I needed them, and once more, at a recent wedding. They were my answer to Texas Deb’s quandry, since from the ankles up, I looked like ivory-and-earth-toned me. wheee!
Hiya, TexasDeb. So glad to read you here again. Oh, man, I know all about trying to fit in, trying not to fit in, and melting down somewhere in between. Marina (above) is really on to something; it’s a tactic I’ve used in such situations. Just ask. “What do you want me to wear?” is a nice way to break some serious ice. Let us know how it goes. And do come back soon.
Hi, Joely. Thanks. You know, I love it, too. And I’m going to wear it more. Maybe any time is the right time to shine. Thanks for the encouragement, sister. Come back soon.
Oh, Suzanne. I love this story. I can see it now, and it’s all looking good to me. Yes it’s zebra print, yes it is and what it does for you shines through. Great. Wear it well, sister.
Hello, Marina. Yes, I agree, though really, please do tell us your side of the not fitting in story. We’re all sisters here. And we’ve been there, oh yeah. Come back soon.
Hi Lynn. Thanks for coming by with this marvelous visual. Sneaking some purple sequins under the ivory-and-earth is a genuine stroke of brilliance. I love it. Please come back soon for more.
A puce stretch micro-mini by Jean Paul Gaultier, which (a) was marked down by 90 percent and (b) fits this category, probably for the same reason.
Hi, Anne. Welcome to TSP, where details like “puce” make me spit my tea on the screen as I read the comments. So wonderful. Yes, puce. But of course! Thank you for the fun of picturing this. Please do come back for more soon.
I have soooo many clothes, in sooo many sizes.
Fat clothes (wearing now), skinny clothes (from a past life) and just right, which I was wearing before I quit smoking, and that I would like to wear once more before I die. My favorite piece of clothing, Nick and Nora flannel pjs!!
Hiya, sister Darcy: And thanks for the visit. Oh yes, the women that we were–and are–all live in that closet. Sometimes I merely open the closet doors and say, “Hello, ladies,” knowing full well the number of personas within. A good pair of pjs is a wonderful thing Enjoy them. And come back soon.
I purge all the time. I don’t really keep anything that I’m not wearing. Strange as that is it seems. But one thing I can’t part with is my first little black dress. Although I wore it for countless weddings , and even lent it out, the snags, and pulls, and missing sequins mark all those early years as a new wife, mother, dancing in fearless hope.
If “Dancing in Fearless Hope” is not the name of your memoir, let me know what is, because it’s the best one I’ve heard, and I’ve heard a million of them. Purging a closet all the time is an admirable habit. I’m glad to know someone who does it, though I love your devotion to the little black dress. Thanks for sharing the tale. And come back soon.
I own a four-armed dress.
I could probably stop right there but it seems cruel not to elaborate. The dress is by a designer named Martin Margiela whose clothing style.com once described as, “avant-garde fashion pushed to its most extreme limits, and many women will be scared to death by it.” and “for those who value unidentifiable, elegant dressing.”
It’s a black wool sweater dress and I have the option of wearing it two ways (so it was actually a very practical purchase if my husband ever asks). I can put my arms in the top set of sleeves and tie the lower set of uninhabited sleeves around my waist so that I appear to be wearing a v-neck dress with a sweater tied around my waist. Alternately if I am feeling more casual, I can just slip my arms into the lower set of sleeves and tie the upper set casually around my shoulders and wear it with jeans. This offers that preppy/tennis look we have probably all donned at one point or another.
I have always loved clothing and playing dress up. Unfortunately as I have gotten older my style has grown a bit more conservative than I would like. So, although it’s pretty crazy and completely ridiculous I will always cherish my four-armed dress and the fact that I am not afraid to wear it.
Marion,
You floored me with that comment, you know. I just wrote a very difficult post, with some dancing references, about my father’s suicide.
May I take this as a nudge?
Although I would certainly need an editor, as I noticed some odd sentences in my comment. I’d blame wine, but it was a a little early. Not enough coffee?
Last summer I bought a vintage silk lime green dress with a matching short jacket. Think Mary Tyler Moore as Laura Petrie (Oh Rob!). It was a complete impulse and I may never wear it anywhere. But it makes me happy when I see it in my closet because 1) it fits and it never would have fit before I lost weight; and 2) it’s something that NO ONE would ever picture me wearing.
Hello, Krista. The four-armed dress is just as wonderful a piece of fashion memoir as I’ve read. Hilarious, and absolutely understandable, fashion being what it is, though I do think that the sisterly thing to do would be to invite your BFF to wear it with you. Thank you so much for sharing this with us, and do come back soon for more. We’d love to read you here again.
Deb: You may please take that as heartfelt encouragement from someone who has been teaching memoir for 13 years, and writing for more than 25. Write on, sister. The memoir prompts that I run are all here for your use. Read them, ask me questions, and let’s write on. I’m with you.
Hello, Sandy. And welcome back. And that’s it, isn’t it? It’s what the piece does for us that makes it stay in the closet. So many women live in my closet, but that glitter shirt, she’s represents one of my favorites. Please come back soon. We always love what you have to say to us.
I was in New York City for a few days by myself, no husband, no children. I was walking my old route from the school I taught in to Bank St., where I got my masters, when I passed a shop window. I saw a dress, the dress. It was calling my name. It was me.
I tried it on. I loved it. It cost $500, more than I’d spent on any article of clothing in my life, including my wedding dress. I had to have it.
I left the city without it, thinking about it. Should I? Shouldn’t I? Where would I wear it? I was about to leave my husband. This could be the dress to restart my life in. I’d wear it everywhere. Needless to say, I finally called the store, bought the dress and hung it in my closet, lovingly, waiting for the right occaision. I wore it once. It wasn’t the right ocassion. The dress now hangs in my attic and I think, “I should sell it, at least I’d get a little money.” Then I look at it and know, it’s me. It’s the right dress.
I loved this post! Got me to thinking about a vividly royal blue silk dress I bought in 1989. It had a deep v-neck and football-uniform–worthy shoulder pads and I bought a white silk shirt to wear under it (modesty, you know).
The problem was that I don’t like vivid royal blue that much (and the shoulder pads were way too big), but I love silk, and the store owner persuaded me to buy it.
Bottom line: I wore out the shirt, pairing it with all kinds of other outfits. The dress? In 2002, I finally admitted I would never wear it, and I took it, tags still on, to the Salvation Army. Hopefully somebody was able to use the fabric for pillows.
Hi Marion and all who have most enjoyably commented,
Closets – wow, what a fertile topic! Four things stand out as I contemplate my closet:
1) A “Mrs. Santa Claus” outfit I bought decades ago at a Salvation Army thrift store “in case I am ever asked to play Mrs. Claus.” My daughter saw it hanging there and asked, “what on earth is this?” She still thinks my reply is one of the funniest things she’s ever heard – and typical of her flamboyant mother.
2) Clothes I am going to fit into again when I successfully reach my goal weight.
3) A pair of v-e-r-y high heels – black with a rhinestone strap – surprisingly elegant considering the glitz factor. Never worn. Bought them to go with a beautiful, dressy and far-too-expensive black cocktail suit that has a rhinestone collar and cuffs. Another outgrown number that I VOW I will get into again. This year! Yes!
4) The memory of the silk dress I wore when I met the love of my life eons ago. It was a black, copper and ivory print, and I wore it with long crystal earrings and high heels that my now-ever-widening foot could then fit into. When he took my hand to shake it upon introduction, dress, beads, shoes and I melted into one big neon heap. I wish I had saved the dress. Today I would make a pillow cover out of it and have it on my bed.
Susan
Hello, Hollis: This oh-so-wonderfully-written comment left me breathless. The idea that you knew that this could be the dress “to restart my life in,” just astonished me. Not only does the reader completely understand that such an idea is possible, but we get it perhaps for the first time in our lives, while it also reinforces how it is that big change is actually made of small moments. Really, this is stunning and beautiful, touching and wondrous in its expression. Thank you. A great piece of memoir.
Hello, Vermontpenwoman: And welcome to TSP, where we love the comments we are getting and the new sisters we are meeting via this “What was I thinking” question. It’s lovely to meet you this way. That you had the dress from 1989 until 2002 is marvelous. I, too, hope that it is being well-loved somewhere else. What a great thing to consider. Please come back for more soon.
Hello, Susan: And welcome to TSP. Ooooh: Three! I love this. Thank you for your generosity here. Memoir is found in the closet, isn’t it? I’m so glad you agree. Thanks so much for bringing these here. They make everyone who reads them both picture that Mrs Claus suit (oh my goodness!) as well as remember what we wore when we met the love of our lives. We just love ‘em. And do come back soon.
The dress I bought for my brother’s wedding in 1991 when I was in the best shape of my life and have only worn twice – black soft wool, long, form-fitted to the knees, then flares out like the bell of a trumpet to the floor. Double-breasted to a deep v-neck with black beading on the lapels and on the buttons. The single most glamorous thing I have ever worn in my life. I can still feel the way the dress swished around my legs, rustling as I walked on very, very high black satin and rhinestone heels. I try it on every time I lose those 20 pounds again and come very close to buttoning it – and I think – another 5 pounds and MAYBE… and then when I don’t, I still can’t part with it, even though it hangs there and taunts me.
Hi, Dorita. Welcome to TSP, where we love the way the story is tagged to the dress. Isn’t it amazing how the clothes remind us, inspire us–and yes, taunt us? It seems to be as universal an experience for women as is the pleasure of a good bra rant. Thanks for stopping by. We love having you here, and hope you’ll come back for lots more.