duck-shaped pain

2000-09-08
Where I Can't Find The Yellow

Life lessons learned yesterday:

  • Consignment stores will find any reason at all to reject clothing that you've brought in. I had a pair of black jeans given back to be because they were too yellow. Stains and tears are understandable, but there was not a trace of yellow on these pants. Oh well -- they took most of the things I brought in (others weren't quite so lucky), so I should regard the trip down there as a victorious one.

  • The biggest problem with having to wait around an hour for them to finish sorting through your clothes at the consignment store is that you're surrounded by stuff to buy. I kept myself busy for most of that hour, trying on things and then talking myself out of buying them. I managed to restrict myself to one thing: a very, very soft dark green corduroy shirt. I passed, however, on the microwave espresso maker -- I almost bought it as a mere curiosity (there's no way it can make decent coffee), but when it started falling apart in the store, I had to tell it no.

  • While I proved to be more ruthless than usual while sorting out the wheat clothes from the chaff clothes, I wasn't nearly ruthless enough. The "keep" pile is much, much larger than I'd like it to be.

  • I still can't bring myself to face the fact that the few nice jackets I have (all left over from my expensive clothing phase) don't really fit anymore. Telling myself hey, you can always wear these open -- no one will notice that you can't button it anymore might work temporarily, but really, I hate to wear jackets open. Still, I can't bring myself to get rid of them.

  • Horizontally striped shirts don't look good on me. So why do I have so many?

  • Old men's cardigans don't look good on me, either. So why do I have so many of those, too? [1]

  • Finding a home for the vintage clothing that doesn't fit is going to be difficult. The consignment store won't take them, and I don't know what the thrift stores around here will do to them (their inventories always seem strangely devoid of any old clothing, which seems a little wrong). I don't have the time or the digital camera required to auction them off on the internet, and people won't buy them at yard sales (I know this from experience).

  • It's okay to like cheesy, embarassing songs. I knew this already, but I have to remind myself of it every time I hear some songs I secretly like, especially if that song is "Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In)" by Kenny Rogers and The First Edition.


[1] I had one that fit, once. It was charteuse (my favorite color), and I found it at a yard sale when I was in eighth grade. It actually fit correctly (always a big concern with men's clothes, since I have a huge ass), and was a valuable part of my wardrobe until I lost it sometime when I lived in Oregon. All purchases of old men's cardigan sweaters since have been futile attempts to replace that sweater, something which I now believe will never happen.

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