Monday, 29 August 2011

The joy of piles

I did a lot of community work on the phone last night: reaching out to the victims of crime, the elderly, the confused - I know I don’t have to, but you can't stop the love, it's just who I am. I also narrowly avoided a hospital admission following an episode of the Big Bang Theory which made me laugh so much I was crying hysterically with laughter and wasn't sure whether I was going to be able to stop or breath properly ever again. I blame my mother. So yes, the BBT continues to be my favourite new thing and I am now a quarter way through season 2 with season 3 on order. I imagine I will either relapse or prolapse by the end of season 4 and have to watch season 5 from the safety of a 'facility'.

To break up an evening of giving and laughter I sandwiched in a series of organisational domestic activities. These included a whites wash and a full and frank discussion with my 3 drawers worth of jeans, slacks and occasionals.

Jean after trouser after cargo pant, lots far too big, and many involving a questionable decision, fashion low point or regretted sale impulse. So I got them all out. They were all in good nick as I had already done a dross purge not so long previously. I identified three piles. Pile one - far too big, pile 2 - a size too big and pile 3 - fashion and size appropriate - just right for today's go get generation.

Pile 3 went straight back in the drawer but was usefully reviewed as it highlighted that there was a brand spanking new pair of jeans I had completely forgotten about. I do so like to have one pair of dark, crisp, new jeans which remain unworn for those break glass in emergency - I must look good this evening, but no time to shop situations. There are few occasions where you can't look good with a dark pair of crisp new jeans, a sharp pressed shirt, a blazer, some spit and polish on your boots, a dab of Gucci behind the ear and a smile. Drinks party, theatre, lunch with the boys or the girls, a date or just a shopping trip to the smarter side of town. Anyway I digress (my default position as usual).

Pile 2 - was quickly reviewed and 2 pairs of the best lookers were retained in case my scales break and I get one of the in between occasions - and the others went on the charity pile.

Pile 3 - now this should have been the easiest pile to decide upon, but is actually where the most trouble was to be had. All were far too big, like clowns trousers, but I found myself looking at each and every one of them and having the following conversation (with myself):

Me: They're far too big
Me: I know, but they're nice
Me: But clown trousers aren't in this lifetime
Me: I know, but they're nice
Me: You didn't wear any of them when they fitted you!
Me: I know, but they're nice
Me: They don’t fit you and you've never worn them
Me: But what happens if my scales break and I have an in-between occasion
Me: Well then we'll get you some new trousers which fit both your body and socially accepted style norms
Me: Ok

So basically most of my clothes have now gone to charity. I just can't stop the giving - it's like a drug to me. And it opens up a whole new vein to be pumped full of my other drug of choice - shopping for new clothes. 

But it hasn't stopped there - I've still got a vestibule full of outsize coats to go through next as well as an archive of previously unwearable tailored delights which should now fit. Autumn / Winter / Spring here I come. Today Littlewoods, tomorrow Monte Carlo!


Michael Patrick McKinley said...

Thank goodness this was about piles, as there is no joy in pyles. Or prolapse. Excellent piece, you may have inspired me to do a little sorting of my own! said...


don't forget to pack us in your attache case (the one with the delicate cream satin lining) when you go to monte carlo.....

loved your post.

would love your novel more. get writing.

adoring you from across the wide ocean.

_tg. x