blame toy story/ i donated my clothes today

It was sunny all of today. I finally got to utilize my sunglasses. Everyone laughed when I packed them to go to England. Now who's laughing?

So there's going to be a series of boring, everyday posts coming up. If you read this blog for exciting travel details and the accompanying video, please accept my sincerest apologies. My wallet is not deep enough to afford a different location every week. I would have to choose between eating and traveling (but more on that later, I guess).




This week at that place that I live at, there's been this whole Spring Cleaning program going on. On Monday, people came to clean all the hall ways and common areas of the building. They also cleaned each flat's kitchen (swoon). In the midst of all the spring cleaning fever, the front desk also offered to do a swap shop sort of deal so that residents could purge their own closets and such. At the end of the week, the leftover items are donated to charity shops. Looking around my room the other night, I realized that I had overpacked. I kept telling myself that this time would be different, and I overpacked (note to self: write about how not to overpack and where you went horribly wrong). As I lay in bed at 2 AM feeling the creeping anxiety at the thought of two cumbersome suitcases to drag through public transportation and eventually Heathrow, I realized what I had to do. I had to donate my clothes.

For those of you who don't know me or have just met me, I am a packrat. I attach memories to everything - ticket stubs, playbills, receipts, scraps of paper from that one day Jessica and I spilled our screen printing fluid and tried to scoop it back into the box. Anything. I still have the blanket that I came home from the hospital in. Blankie is my only friend. You could say it's a problem. Personally, I blame Toy Story. Ever since I watched it, I've been assigning emotions to my inanimate objects. Clothes definitely are the things I have the most issue with parting with. They don't even have faces. I know they don't sigh contentedly sitting in my wardrobe. I know they don't feel abandoned or insulted if I wanted to give them away. I know they don't breathe a sigh of relief when I pass them over from my occasional purges. But I can't help but feel like I'm breaking up with someone every time I give away my clothes.

These are the clothes I gave away today. Each piece of clothing has a precious memory but hasn't been worn for months or don't fit well or whatever. I brought them under the delusion that I would lose tons of weight here and look good in every single piece I brought with me.

This whispery beauty was bought in an American Apparel in Northern California on a visit to a friend. I didn't know there was a party that night and for whatever reason, I couldn't just borrow a blouse. I had just gone through a breakup and decided to drink my feelings and thought I was going to die that night. She has served me well through business casual event after business casual event from that day onward. I always had issues with one button though that would never stay put, which always had me on constant bra-lookout. 

This handsome fella was an impulse buy from Urban Outfitters. He was on sale for $20. It was February. He was my Valentine. He got me through 8AM lectures and always distracted from the fact that it was the fifth day in a row I had worn leggings. He made me feel hip. Eventually, we grew apart. I thought this trip would bring us back together, but alas.

My mom and I were in Bangkok. Funny place. Amidst all the poverty, there is a giant shopping center called the Paragon. It has the best stocked H&M I have ever seen outside of the UK. These lovely ladies were snuggled under a grey jumper I picked up under a rack. I slipped them on my tiny feet and they were snug. That was a first. With size 2UK/5US/35EU feet, nothing ever fits, let alone something this cute and on sale. It was the only thing my mom and I could agree on in the store. On the days we agree on anything, it's a good day. And it was. As with all shoes, they stretch out. What began as a comfortable relationship spiraled into random slip-ups on the pavement. Sometimes they didn't feel like going out when I did. Eventually they stopped coming out with me.

After weeks of debating with myself, I bought this dress my senior year of high school. I did a bunch of sports in high school and didn't really ever find dresses that flattered my awkwardly bulky body. This dress made me feel pretty. I wore it to a backyard wedding. I wore it to parties during my freshman year of college. I wore it for drinks on the lawn at Cambridge. It was a magical dress. Time went on. I stopped feeling pretty in it. It hung dejectedly in my closet like a significant other who's stopped being attracted to his partner in that way.

So that was your daily dose of "WTF." Also, I don't know why all of them had sexes except the dress.

I think I wanted to say initially was that all my clothes have a story. I loved them or still do, but they deserve someone who can wear them to their full potentials. What scares me the most about giving away my clothes is that they're not going to get bought up or that whoever does buy them up won't love them the way I did or worse yet, they just get thrown away. I hope they find love in another closet. I hope a style savvy thrifter finds them and loves them and appreciates them and wears them and takes care of them. Someone who sees beauty in the pre-loved pieces down the endless aisles of broken hearted articles of clothing. I hope people like Jessica find my pieces, basically.

Anyway, click through her name to go read her blog. The link will take you to a post about thrifting and all its joys. Happy hunting.