I’ve just cleared out my closet. And the big, heavy suitcase that was housing my ‘one day I’ll get back in to’ clothes.
And it felt great! I was pleasantly surprised that some lovely items now fit and can return to the fray, while others had to be kissed goodbye (some particularly beautiful pieces that I never should have bought as they would never look good on me, were literally kissed!)
It also made me take an unexpected trip down memory lane.
I had to smile when I came across some pretty Alannah Hill pieces. I remember when I went through my Alannah Hill ‘pretty-as-a-picture’ phase. I bought everything I could on eBay and at the warehouse sales ( I STILL can’t afford to buy her clothes full price!). I was single, living in Southbank in the CBD and working in the city too. My life revolved around me, me ,me and catching up with friends.
They made me think of the city in summer and weekends spent in beer gardens, lusting over some tall, lanky boy with messy hair that would flop into his eyes. He knows who he is! Hee Hee. Actually, that lanky boy is now a married father-of-one and not a terrific catch come to think of it.
I remember wearing those clothes and lamenting that I wasn’t as tall and skinny as the Alannah Hill girls in the shops, knowing deep down that some of the clothes didn’t flatter me, but wearing them nonetheless. I was caught up in my own little inner city single world whereI floated about in whimsy clothing. And I was really happy!
And then I came across the clothes I bought for my engagement party. I remember throwing caution to the wind and spending lots of money on the size 10 (!) clothes.
I also remember that in the lead up to the party, my husband-to-be was getting worried because we couldn’t afford an engagement ring and the pressure was on to have something on my ring finger for the night!
A few nights before the party, my gorgeous Greek Yaya who lived next door, took me aside and let me look through her jewellery to see if I could find something I liked. And I did. It was a ring that my Pop had given to her for a wedding anniversary and she never really liked it. But I loved it. And that became my engagement ring.
There were some ‘what were you thinking?!’ fashion disasters in there too! I really wish someone had sat me down and told me that although most of my friends who were tall and skinny could wear the latest trends I COULD NOT! I think I held on to those ones in the slim hope that I could somehow lose heaps of weight, and grow a few inches too!
And then there were the fat clothes. They made me saddest of all. I remember wearing them after I had gone back to full time work after having two kids. I remember wanting to hide away because I didn’t know my body anymore, but I knew I DEFINITELY didn’t like it.
And then there were the clothes that I had to buy after losing lots of weight, and then putting it (plus some) straight back on again. The failure clothes.
Now all these clothes are in a massive pile on my bed and will go to an opportunity shop and I hope make someone else really happy.
I feel good looking at the pile and realising that even though I am still very much a work in progress, I know my mind and I know what suits me. Not just in clothing, but in life generally. I know what I like and what I don’t like. What I will put up with and what I won’t, and what I hold dearest of all.
Now I have lots more space in my closet to buy new things! But I have my fingers crossed that it’s onwards and upwards from here on – no more Thai fisherman’s pants that made me look two foot tall and two foot wide; or thin, spaghetti strapped silky tops that made my shoulders look like a wrestler’s!
Just mature, elegant threads that will make people stop and think, “Wow! Angie has really blossomed into a mature woman who has got her whole life under control!” I think those kind of clothes are called ‘dress ups’.