Diary of a wardrobe

Things are things, but they often tell a story. Stories makes things special.

I ran across a piece today in the CS Monitor titled “All the stories my wardrobe could tell.” It’s a title that I could definitely write a piece under, but this one isn’t mine. The piece by Miriam C. Daum is touching and a reminder of the close bond we form with our things, including our clothes.

An excerpt:

A puffy piece of blue down jacket pokes out from its matching nylon bag (called a “stuff sack,” I am told). I pull out the jacket and pause to chuckle at the zigzag tear on its sleeve, which even careful stitchery could not completely hide.

The accidental rip was courtesy of Max, our dog. It happened on a glorious winter’s day at the beach, with sparkling sun and cloudless sky. I had held his ball high up in my hand, preparing for the farthest throw. But Max, in his exuberance, could not wait. He leaped up toward the ball, his mouth wide open in canine glee. And thus occurred the meeting of Max’s teeth and my jacket sleeve – to leave a lasting record of the joy we shared that day.

She mentions how the memories start with new things when we receive them as a gift or buy them in the store. I have a few items of clothes with which the memories span the globe and start when they received their first stitch. You can bet I won’t be getting rid of them.

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