If my closet could talk, I’m sure its first few words would be a hounding interrogation over the size two tops I haven’t fit into since 2007 that still roam its interior unchecked. This would surely be followed by a stinging conversation about all the old shoes I refuse to downsize, especially the cheap ones from Target that, while brilliantly stylish for exactly three weeks, lose all glamour immediately after and never make it to the Goodwill bin.
What would yours say, if it got to speak? Would it hash out a lifetime of mismanagement, squirreled away stuffed animals, and partnerless socks? Would it remind you of that time it held all the contents of your momentarily untidy bedroom when your mother popped by for a surprise visit? Would it tell you the 20 things it should get to do before it dies? If I took pity on mine and channeled my inner apartment therapy guru, I would probably stop to thank it: Yes, there actually is at least one thing in there I could put on that doesn’t look awful. It might even encourage me to stop driving past CrossFit every time I’m downtown, but to instead turn in, subject myself to a military-style exercise regime, and eventually show those size two tops some action after all.
What kind of relationship do you have with your closet? Are you the smart, kind, and discerning type with just the perfect number of boatnecks and long sleeves whose items sit happily folded and unencumbered and look fabulous in person? Or, like me, are you hoarding an unnecessary shop of off-size and unwearable items and maybe a felt hat collection that you can’t remember when or why you started but seem unable to part with?
Pretty closet found here.
P.S. Remember Closet Visit? I wish they’d pulled out the most embarrassing items from their closets, not just the most stylish. You know there’s a pair of ancient pajamas or a sports-team sweatshirt in there, somewhere.