The conversation shed some light on my own wardrobe situation, as I looked down at myself and realized the t-shirt I was wearing was four years old and I counted it among my newest. I bought it for $6 from Ben's school when he was in Pre-K so I would match his class when I went on field trips. The gray yoga capris I was wearing are so worn you can see the elastic through the holes in the waistband almost the entire way around. From the day I bought them at Sam's Club, I knew they were going to be, perhaps, my favorite article of clothing of all time, and so I could not wait to get back to Sam's Club to buy another identical pair. That pair is in slightly less appalling condition with one addition - a brown spot that won't come out from spilling wood stain on my thigh back when Sam made Ben's bookshelf about five years ago.
The good pair's waistband - in all of it's elastic showing glory. No picture of the worse-off ones because, naturally, they're in the washing machine right now since I wore them yesterday.
Poor things. You can see daylight through them.
A lesser person might have tossed these by now, but oh no, not me. I will cry real tears the day I have to part with these.
(Like the time my favorite orange Mercer shirt got a hole in the armpit so large that technically the sleeve could no longer be called a sleeve. It just sort of dangled there. We happened to be on vacation at the time, so Ben and I ceremoniously tossed it into the dumpster at our condo complex. It was a tough day.)
Add this to the three styles of shirt (polo, scoop neck, and jersey) I have from Kohl's in various colors each, a couple of pairs of jeans, and that just about completes my wardrobe (slight exaggeration, but not much...ask Sam).
I dress this way for a variety of reasons, not unlike my grandfather.
1. I have unrealistic price expectations, which, if a piece of attire does not meet, I will not buy. For example, in 1996, I bought a pair of jeans for $12.99. So from that day forward, any pair of jeans costing more than that is, in my mind "a rip off." Inflation? No. That doesn't exist in my mind.
2. Aside from having to be practically free, any article of clothing I purchase must be comfortable. I'm talking can't-even-tell-I'm-wearing-it comfortable. It can't pull or bunch or squeeze unnecessarily. This is why my closet is full of t-shirts, elastic waistbands, and flip-flops.
3. I'm boring. When left to shop for myself I buy solid colors, mostly gray and blue. On a wild and crazy whim, I let Abby pick out a dress for me at Old Navy the last time we went. It was pink and floral and loud. I humored her. I've worn it twice and never received more compliments in my life. My five year old has more fashion sense than me.
4. I am a creature of habit. I love buying shoes, and I have an unconscionable amount of them. But when it comes time to leave the house, I put on my same crocs flip flops that have walked a million miles and no longer have any tread on them.
Sam and I have matching ones. We bought them the same day. This is what the bottoms look like:
Sam's bear an appropriate level of wear, whereas mine are practically smooth. I've bitten the dust in slick conditions wearing these more than once. And yet, I can't seem to part with them.
The point of this post? I'm sure there was one once upon a time before it took me two days to write this post, and I went off on a few tangents. Instead here we are, with me proudly showcasing my tattered clothing.
I'm pretty sure my grandfather wouldn't have done that.
Do you have any weird clothing quirks? How about a favorite article of clothing that will cause you to shed real tears when it finally gives out? What kind of shopper are you? Do you love buying clothes or wait for necessity to strike? These are the things I am thinking about today...