I was looking through my wardrobe the other day, thinking about the clothes I’ve collected over the years. Not necessarily the ones I wear, but the ones I can’t quite bring myself to part with.
There’s an embroidered jacket from Vietnam, silk kurtas custom-made for me in India and Vietnam, a Chinese embroidered jacket found in the markets of Shanghai…and the list goes on.
Some haven’t seen daylight in years. Some no longer fit, and to be honest, rural New Hampshire doesn’t really lend itself to the clothes I wore when we lived in Vietnam. Although a few still make an appearance at a special party or two.
Why do I keep them?
I suppose because they take me back. Not just to the places I’ve lived, but to the person I was at the time. I can remember the shops, the conversations, the weather, even the feeling of wearing something for the first time.
I wrote about this in The Stories We Wear, and I’m still thinking about it.
At some point, I really should have a proper wardrobe clear-out. But then I find something, remember its story, and back on the hanger it goes.
Perhaps tomorrow. 😉
