Wear 383: To Have, and To Hold - A Dilemma
So this happened: Cable Knit Vests became re-came a thing.
I've had my op-shopped/thrifted Cable Knit Vest for a very long time. And except for the time, earlier in the year, when we took a turn at croqueting in our front yard and it seemed appropriate in that moment, I have never worn it. Despite that, it survived my 'Does It Spark Joy?' evaluation of the jumper and cardigan shelf. Now, it turns out, it was worth hanging on to.
Or was it?
Does that mean you should never get rid of anything? Because eventually it'll come back? That would mean, at some point, you would have to stop buying new things. (Before your house exploded.) Not an overly bad idea, but I always had this fear that one day I would stop buying things and my wardrobe, for the rest of my life, would be stuck in the 80s or 90s or Noughts. The vaguaries of fashion would seem eternal if you're stuck looking like a minor celebribity from Dynasty. The first one. Again, not an overly bad idea until you remember the shoulder pads will go out of fashion but not out of your closet.
To have, and to hold. For better, or for worse. In sickness, and in health. As long as we both shall remain in reasonable condition to wear and be worn. Should owning clothes be more like a marriage? A committment to stand by each other from Joan Rivers' Dynasty, through Nicollette Sheridan's, and beyond. A faithfulness to what you have, rather than what you may, in a moment of foolishness, in a desire for the new, covet. Should letting go of something be akin to divorce?
The Planet might thank us to take that approach. Sitting in this house now is probably enough to see me through to the end. Maybe there will be a bit of mending along the way, some alterations, the coming and going of the shoulder pads for sure. I have once again vowed to not buy anything until next year, Black Friday. (Except, maybe, one trip to the Op Shop, when, if, they ever re-open. It's been so long. And everyone's been cleaning their houses while they're not allowed to leave them. So the treasures will be once-in-a-lifetime.) If there is enough here to last until the end of my life, then until November 2021 should be easy! And who knows what else amongst all this will make it's way down a runway somewhere and come out of a shadowed corner of my closet at the other end.
Aside: I did forgo the part of the resurgence of the Cable Knit Vest that called for the no-pants look.
And PS: The Alexis style bouffant of my hair is my protest. Post lockdown, at already two months overdue, the first available hairdressing appoinment is still twenty-four days from now. Someone will be able to get through my window on it by then!
Oh, and PPS: I'm fake doing the chores in the spirit of the fake getting dressed every day. Mr Darby Pickles knows this is weird and unusual (see his look below). I can't explain why I do what I do. All I know is that I pledge to get dressed everyday of my holidays and do lots of houseowrk, and ten days later ... um, where did the ten days go?
The Outfit
Flowered Dress: ASOS
Black Skirt: Collusion
Cable Knit Vest: Op-shopped (Hopefully handmade and worn by an amatuer cricketer in its past life)
Collar: ASOS
Shoes: Doc Martens
I've had my op-shopped/thrifted Cable Knit Vest for a very long time. And except for the time, earlier in the year, when we took a turn at croqueting in our front yard and it seemed appropriate in that moment, I have never worn it. Despite that, it survived my 'Does It Spark Joy?' evaluation of the jumper and cardigan shelf. Now, it turns out, it was worth hanging on to.
Or was it?
Does that mean you should never get rid of anything? Because eventually it'll come back? That would mean, at some point, you would have to stop buying new things. (Before your house exploded.) Not an overly bad idea, but I always had this fear that one day I would stop buying things and my wardrobe, for the rest of my life, would be stuck in the 80s or 90s or Noughts. The vaguaries of fashion would seem eternal if you're stuck looking like a minor celebribity from Dynasty. The first one. Again, not an overly bad idea until you remember the shoulder pads will go out of fashion but not out of your closet.
To have, and to hold. For better, or for worse. In sickness, and in health. As long as we both shall remain in reasonable condition to wear and be worn. Should owning clothes be more like a marriage? A committment to stand by each other from Joan Rivers' Dynasty, through Nicollette Sheridan's, and beyond. A faithfulness to what you have, rather than what you may, in a moment of foolishness, in a desire for the new, covet. Should letting go of something be akin to divorce?
The Planet might thank us to take that approach. Sitting in this house now is probably enough to see me through to the end. Maybe there will be a bit of mending along the way, some alterations, the coming and going of the shoulder pads for sure. I have once again vowed to not buy anything until next year, Black Friday. (Except, maybe, one trip to the Op Shop, when, if, they ever re-open. It's been so long. And everyone's been cleaning their houses while they're not allowed to leave them. So the treasures will be once-in-a-lifetime.) If there is enough here to last until the end of my life, then until November 2021 should be easy! And who knows what else amongst all this will make it's way down a runway somewhere and come out of a shadowed corner of my closet at the other end.
Aside: I did forgo the part of the resurgence of the Cable Knit Vest that called for the no-pants look.
And PS: The Alexis style bouffant of my hair is my protest. Post lockdown, at already two months overdue, the first available hairdressing appoinment is still twenty-four days from now. Someone will be able to get through my window on it by then!
Oh, and PPS: I'm fake doing the chores in the spirit of the fake getting dressed every day. Mr Darby Pickles knows this is weird and unusual (see his look below). I can't explain why I do what I do. All I know is that I pledge to get dressed everyday of my holidays and do lots of houseowrk, and ten days later ... um, where did the ten days go?
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