I am stranded under a mountain (MOUNTAIN I tell you) of clothes.
Send those cute folks from What Not to Wear and their shiny trash bins!
It happens every year... I wander to my closet, a space no larger than an airplane lavatory, and think, now, where is that shirt/skirt/pair of jeans I want to wear... and so I start poking around and shoving things aside and, like an earthquake, those little rumbles of clothes shuffling indicate a 7.0 on the Richter Scale of wardrobe purging.
And now I cannot see the floor of my bedroom and the pile is threatening to engulf the whole of the master bedroom (which, considering the room is a mere 12' x 12' isn't saying much, but still...).
So, here is that black blouse I bought... the one that is semi-sheer and needs to be worn with either an incredibly sexy and lacy bra or a sleek and fitted camisole... and wouldn't it look amazing with a pair of skinny jeans and the black strappy Gucci sandals...
Or how about this skirt? What a perfect length... just below the knee and pencil thin and the heavy denim with a hint of stretch means it's comfy all day... and that anchor applique gives it just enough kooky to keep it from being too "mom-ed out"...
Oh, and these shoes! These fabulous light blue suede kitten heel sling back with embellished beading on the toe shoes... so perfect with wide legged soft wool chocolate trousers and cashmere sweater... very Kate Hepburn but with a bit more sass...
Don't those outfits sound great?
Don't I sound like a savvy dresser?
And here is where we fall apart...
The black blouse is lovely. But, no way in hell am I wearing it with a only a bra and I don't own a sleek and fitted cami and skinny jeans are not made for girls built along the J-Lo (maybe J-Lo's chubbier sister) lines and so basically what I end up with the shoes. Which I do have and I pretend are awesome enough to make up for the fact I am wearing them with the same old bootcut jeans from Old Navy and cheap white t-shirt.
That skirt? It is a cute and as sexy as I described. It is one of the more wonderful things in my wardrobe and the only real issue is that it is too small. Two sizes too small to be exact.
And those shoes? Those shoes are every bit as gorgeous as you envision... and if they didn't pinch the ever loving hell out of my baby toes I could wear them.
Do you see where I am headed? A closet full of mistakes. Of wishes. Of clothes that belong on someones else's body or on someone else's feet.
I have outfits for being 10 pounds heavier and 20 pounds lighter. I have blouses that can only be explained by late night TV and too many Carmen Miranda movies. I have shoes that make you think, "Carrie Bradshaw" which is fine until you remember I drive carpool and there are jeans in a full range of sizes... 5 different sizes to be specific.
Let the purging begin!
The guidelines swirling about in my head seem to have been torn from the pages of a women's magazine, and so, "If you haven't worn it in a year, toss it" is my mantra. This will leave me with nothing but some sweats, a motley assortment of tank tops, 2 denim skirts (fortunately of different lengths) and a zippered hoodie purchased on vacation when I found myself unprepared for foul weather.
Be gone ye boots in strange shade of brown!
Be gone ye clogs whose appearance testifies to the dangers of drunken Internet shopping!
Be gone ye jeans which ride halfway down my ass every time I sit forcing me to always chose the seat against the wall!
Welcome back darling peasant skirt which fell to the floor and has lived hidden for the better part of 6 months... you make me feel festive and flirty.
Welcome back hounds tooth checked trousers... you are smart and well lined and look great with, well hello there brown twinset!
I am working on a single-handed bringing back of the poncho.
Am I alone here in my foolishness? Does everyone have clothes of mystery?
And more importantly... should I be surprised that I just pulled out a blouse that I have never seen?