Page 11 - Scene Magazine 41-03 March 2016
P. 11

The Way I’ve Scene It
I really don’t know exactly where my gray pants are at this moment. I don’t think they are lost, I just can’t find them. This happens all the time. If they are in
my closet, they are deep in hiding. They may be incognito on a hanger or folded and tucked tightly in between some oth- ers of their kind on the shelf. You know how they do, they are just like single shoes and one sock... when they go un- derground, you’re probably not going to find them for a while, so you might just as well pick something else out to wear, and move on with your day. The harsh truth is that my closet is a thief and also a liar. It leads me to believe that there are dozens of wardrobe choices at all times, but really, this is simply not true.
On any given day, I might lean on the door jamb wearing my best painful face and appear to be nearing collapse. “Honey,” I start. My husband finishes the sentence, “You don’t have anything to wear.” I whine, “Well, if you must know, I have things to wear. I don’t have any things I WANT to wear, and THAT is my plight.” I have clothes. LOTS of clothes, and what would a sporty, trendy, quirky, classic fashion collection be without shoes... LOTS of shoes, like 60 pair (for crying out loud, this DOES include boots people, so let’s don’t judge!) I also have some iconic couture that may in fact in- clude peace signs, bell bottoms and giant shoulder pads, but those are probably making another comeback any day now, so they are not to be parted with despite the precious real estate they occupy. The sooner we all agree to that, the sooner we can begin to feel sorry for me regarding fashion situations.
I have fat clothes, skinny clothes, dressy, trendy, comfy, cool, frumpy, and outdated clothes. Some things are a color I will never, ever wear. An ex- cellent sale has the power to beguile me into thinking that I would look awe- some in short waist bright chartreuse faux leather jacket. The crazy-low price
About that closet
scrawled across the tag loses its pow- er under the naked 60 watt lightbulb in my closet, and I suddenly know the truth. I stroke the silky lining and move on. Sometimes I believe that my cool, trendy black knit maxi dress won’t drag the floor if I wear really tall (read UNCOMFORTABLE) shoes, but it al- ways does, so it hangs quietly among the others, until the fateful day I move them to ‘The Other Closet,’ where they will live out their days until they are finally surrendered to Goodwill. The Too Small Group are a feisty pack of liars. “Hang on to us,” they whisper, or “I’m a little snug right now, but you can cover that pudgy business up with a sassy cardigan.” Don’t fall for it. If it doesn’t fit right, you probably won’t wear it EVER! There are bullies in my closet too. The size 8s just scoff at me every time I glance their way. “Remem- ber how cute we used to look on you? Bahahaa.” Humph! Scoff at me, will you? I put every one of those mouthy little rabble rousers on WIRE hangers,
gave my nice department store hang- ers to the well-fitting, well-mannered items that don’t mock me, and shipped the hateful 8s directly to ‘The Other Closet.’ Don’t trifle with me, you arro- gant little clothes, you will lose!
Sometimes, that sneaky closet hides things in plain sight. I once pried open a shoe box and stood there looking into it like a monkey with a math problem. Brand new tags-on-never-been worn- shoes that had been in my closet for four years stared back at me. Oh, and the very nice, overpriced corduroy coat with the softest faux fur collar ever that came from Fashion Island in California? That sat for a good two years before I remembered it. One night, I was sitting on the couch contemplating a coat I had just bought and it suddenly dawned on me that I had bought a leather coat a year and a half before that, and it had never been out of the garment bag. I had totally forgotten it. I might also mention that I just now remembered two of those things for the second time since I bought them, and neither of them have been thought of in two years. It’s a big pay off when that happens. It’s like getting something new all over again!
In the end though, despite the 18 or so white blouses, six or eight pair of tan khaki pants in a variety of sizes and a few hundred other things, I still don’t have anything to wear. I imagine this unfor- tunate situation has overwhelmed your spirit of compassion, and some of you are feeling my pain. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go shopping. You-know-who is having a sale...and I have coupons!

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