dev & bets.

My clothes are really important to me. Cliché, yes, but they're a part of who I am. They're a part of my memory. A textile pensive, as it were.

Here's what I'm talking about:

I've been short on pants lately, and remembered I have a pair to get fixed. Bonus! "New" pants without having to buy new pants! As I put them in a bag to take to a tailor, I thought to myself, "gee, I was wearing these pants the first time [boy] asked me to hang out". I've worn these pants dozens of times before and since, but that one evening last February is what they make me think of.

My clothes all have very distinct memories. By which, of course, I mean memories I associate with them.  I've recently started re-wearing a sweater I got probably thirteen years ago from some unknown second hand store. I love the sweater to bits, but I remember it as the sweater I wore the only time in my life I've puked in public. Age eight, in the basement of The Bay. 

I remember what I was wearing at almost every important moment in my life, and many moments not so important as well. On my first day of middle school I wore an Old Navy tee that was really cool, because at that time my city didn't have an Old Navy. Paired with Sears jeans from my grandma and a low pony I was stylin' at 4' 10". The first time I went on a big trip, I wore red fleece pants and a red hoodie over a white tee with Ferdinand in (what else?) red on the chest. Easy to spot if I got lost in a European airport, I guess? On my first ever first date I wore clothes that were not my own. The outfit belonged to my beautiful best friend, and her borrowed jeans and striped tee put me at ease.   

All this makes me think of Ghost World; Enid's garage sale in particular. 

Angry Garage Sale Woman: How much for this dress? 

Rebecca: God, I can't believe you're selling that. 

Enid: That's $500. 

Angry Garage Sale Woman: What? 

Enid: 500.

Angry Garage Sale Woman: You're crazy. It should be like $2.

Enid: I was wearing that when I lost my virginity. 

Angry Garage Sale Woman: Well, why do I care about that? 

Enid: Well, why do you want it? I mean, it would look stupid on you anyway. 

Angry Garage Sale Woman: God! Fuck you! 

Perhaps Enid and I are too sentimental. Maybe that's why I hoard clothes like I do. I wouldn't give away my first kiss shirt for the longest time. True confession. 

Sometimes my clothes memories make me sad. Sometimes they make me smile. I've never yet stopped wearing something because of the memories it held. Usually I remember these associations in passing as I put it on or put it in my dresser. Of course, clothes are just clothes. But sometimes it's nice to have a memory be so tangible. Sometimes it's nice to be sentimental. 

Do you have clothes you associate with a certain memory or a certain time in your life, Bets?

Dev.