In defense of shopaholics everywhere...

My mother spent all of last week in good 'ol Alabama at our house on the lake. While there, she began rumaging around, cleaning out various nooks and crannies. She gave me a call one night and asked if I could think of anything that I wanted brought back. All at once I imagined my old room, my room with four walk-in closets, closets that still housed some of my favorite pieces or raiment. When I moved to Dallas I didn't know exactly where I would end up living, or how long I would be there, so I only brought about 1/3 of my wardrobe with me.  Well, as spring jumps into high gear and I am still here in fabulous Dallas, I decided it was time to bring all of my clothes to their new home. At my request, my mother replied, “ALL of your clothes?” Of course all of them! I laughed and just went on with my day. Last night as the third industrial size garbage bag of clothes was dragged into my room by my brother, I was NOT laughing. ***



At first blush, I was embarrassed at the load of clothing that completely took over my living space. How in the world could I be SO materialistic?! I am a girly-girl, no doubt, and obviously love to shop, but I really thought I had developed more depth than this! But as I began to go through all of the items, different emotions overtook me. I came across the pair of old basketball shorts that had been mine from my 5th grade team. I found my senior jersey from Westminster. There was the black dress I wore to my Granddaddy’s funeral and the ratty old t-shirt from the first pub I went to in London. The top I wore when I first met my precious godson was laying right next to the dress I wore as I stood with my best friend on her wedding day. I realized that a majority of the things I hold onto were still in my possession only because I didn’t want to let go of the memories that were associated with them.


Now I know that I would have memories of all these events without the various material reminders, but I love how vivid the memories become when those reminders trigger something in my brain. I love remembering exactly how hot it was at Peg’s wedding, and how I cried when I first met baby Will. Seeing my senior jersey brought back a flash image of me and about 5 of my girlfriends standing side by side, posing for a picture, so proud we had finally made it to our last year of high school. I don’t ever want to ever forget anything about my grandfather, including memories of his funeral. As I looked at the black dress I wore the morning he was buried, I remembered every detail of the way my younger brother offered me his elbow to escort me from the limousine to the funeral services.

"A woman's life can really be a succession of lives, each revolving around some emotionally compelling situation or challenge, and each marked off by some intense experience."
Wallis Simpson

These special articles of clothing all represent experiences in my life that I wouldn’t trade for anything. These experiences have made me who I am, and I am sure will influence who I will become. I will not apologize for hanging on to these pretty little mementos of my life. I will however, be spending my entire weekend driving back and forth between The Container Store to purchase under bed storage bins and my local Goodwill drop-off location…all while pondering how to philosophically justify my shoe collection.

 ***As a side note, I do NOT make a habit of transporting my clothing, or any of my other goods in garbage bags, nor does my family, but we did not own enough suitcases to handle the load.