I vowed to buy no new clothes in 2009 as part of a resolution to use everything in my wardrobe and also remind myself that in the apparel department I have more than enough. As my father once said, surveying the walk in closet in a previous apartment, "You have more shoes than Imelda Marcos." Hewas exaggerating of course, but my husband would agree with the principle behind that comment.
Yet I do give things away – jeans, trousers, dresses – recently I gave all my favorite spring dresses away to a friend’s mother who runs a second hand shop in Uruguay. They were easy to part with because I no longer fit any of them comfortably – a fact that became apparent at my brother in law’s engagement party when I hurriedly slipped on a favorite in the hotel room, only to realize, far too late without any other options at hand exactly where I tend to store excess fat.
Excess has crept into my life, sight unseen over the past four years. Expanding both my waistline and my closet, I, Walmart shopper and 100 pound twentysomething, have transformed into a slightly rotund thirty year old clotheshorse.
Traveling has always been a major reason to shop: nothing beats clothing mementos to evoke a foreign land. But here it is, February, and I’ve resisted the bargain sales on calf high leather boots in Ireland and the urge to find another pair of wonderful black pumps in Egypt ala my 2005 visit.
One month down; only 11 more to go.