20150629.0735

A thought occurred to me as I was getting dressed this morning. I was putting on a pair of pants I have owned for some years now, and, to my delight, they fit. As I have grown somewhat in my time at Sherwood Cottage, I have had to replace several pairs of pants because they would no longer close about me, or if they did, people would have thoughts of sausage casings--and since I do not work in meat-packing, that is not a thought I want people to associate with me. (I am aware that there are jokes to make. They are my gift to you who read this.) To have those I am wearing today be a pair I can wear today, then, was a good thing, even aside from the notion the event brings to mind.

Said notion is this: One of the blessings of adulthood is the lessened need to buy new clothes. Yes, I know there are many clothes-horses out in the world; I lived in The City for many years, after all, and one of the buildings in which I worked also hosted a fashion school. (It made for interesting elevator conversations.) I have no problem with people spending their disposable income on clothes if they want; if the money is earned rightly and they are not neglecting obligations they have toward me )and, yes, some of you still owe me), then I little care what they do with it. And I can respect those whose arts are sartorial; even if I lack the training to appropriately critique and interpret the art, I recognize that statements are being made by the art, and I am aware that much is invested in it in terms of time, resources, and effort. But while the artist may well operate under need, the clothes-horse does not, and many are like me in that they do not buy new clothes unless the old ones fail to fit, are somehow ruined, or a special occasion demands a particular piece not already had (e.g. a black suit for a funeral or a dinner jacket for a formal dinner).

I recall that my youth saw annual clothes-shopping in advance of school, as well as replacements throughout the school year as my body changed or I suffered the effects of others' energies. (Even as a child, I was not outdoorsy. Perhaps it had to do with being beaten on playgrounds more than once.) I also still have shirts bought in high school that fit me well and look decent, as well as pants bought at the beginning of graduate school that still serve. They contrast with what the Mrs. and I have already acquired, sent away, and acquired again for Ms. 8, as well as what we anticipate having to do similarly in the years to come. She changes more rapidly than do her mother and I--and I hope to better effect. Her wardrobe, already burgeoning thanks to friends, grandparents, and thrift stores, follows suit. (Yes, I know...)