Dressing up & dressing down

I hate throwing clothes away, even if they are worn thin, let alone too small. The clothes don’t wear thin when you hoard them as I do. It’s obvious really, the more you have the less often they get worn and the longer they last. I have several pairs of much loved socks that I bought when I was an art student, and I still wear them to this day. That’s over 30 years, 35 to be more precise (maybe even 38). That’s a good life for a sock I reckon.
The problem is that we simply don’t have the room to store my sartorial hoard, and as some of it is now rendered useless due to my increased waist, it does cause a problem.

“‘How many red T-shirts can you possibly need?’ he cries and I find it hard to give a rational answer”

Mr R, the husband, has declared war on my habit and in a pre-Christmas purge demanded that I throw some clothes away. He showed willing by culling his own collection of T-shirts “Well, how many gym vests do I need?” he cried as he carefully folded them into a bag ready to go to the charity shop.

My T-shirts were duly placed in a pile at my side for the same consideration. At the time I was busy going through a box of old photos, CDs and wires. It was a random collection of stuff that I had previously thought too precious to throw out but somehow now I managed to cut it from two plastic storage boxes to one small cardboard box. Result!

I had hoped that Mr R would be so impressed by my efforts that I would be excused the T-shirt cull. No such thing, he smiled at my work and then pointed to the pile of T-shirts.

I leafed through them like the pages of a fashion diary. Could I really bear to part with my collection of classic Nichole Farhi T’s. Not a chance. Was there still life in my red shirt with a big tree on the front? Abso-bloody-lutely! It was proving to be a tough call and as I turned each fabric page the volume seemed to grow in size – I was getting nowhere fast.

As this was happening Mr R decided it was time to find his DJ for the forthcoming office party. Now I have two, one that I bought 15 years ago that is tired and a tad tight, and a new one that is perfect. They both live in suit covers and hang side by side complete with bow ties and braces.

Mr R arrived in the sitting room in the first of a series of black dress jackets and a pair of underpants. “I don’t remember ever owning this one and I’m not sure which pair of trousers go with it.” I couldn’t help, I know it was not mine – far too small.

It was the start of a parade of black jackets and trousers in various combos that added up to rather a lot of evening wear for one man. It certainly took the edge off my T-shirt issues as he worried his way through the suits in the hope of finding the best.

Whilst all this was happening I was half watching an ancient episode of The Saint on TV. Roger Moore as Simon Templar was pretty dashing, but single handedly I think he brought the cotton roll neck (or polo neck as we knew them back then) into disrepute.

Mr R took my pile of T-shirts back into the bedroom returning only to tell me that the drawer would not shut. This was my cue to go in and sort it out.

It was true, the draw was bulging wide. I took the piles out and there, lurking at the bottom of the drawer were three roll necks. I can’t remember the last time I wore them but having seen Roger Moore dashing about in one on the TV moments before I knew that I would not be wearing them ever again.

Mr R finally made a decision about the suit, a rather snappy double-breasted affair and my T-shirt lived another day.

I have no doubt that the problem will arise again, it’s not only the quantity that he sees as an issue but the fact that so many of them are red – “How many red T-shirts can you possibly need?” he cries and I find it hard to give a rational answer. Maybe this year I will instigate the ‘one in, one out’ rule on my wardrobe. I’m sure there are some rags at the back of a cupboard I can employ in the process without having to surrended any of my much loved, if ill fitting, garments.