Closet shrinkage has expanded its deviltry to drawers and under-the-bed storage units.
For the past two years I and others like me have not had to worry too much about our wardrobes. We had no place to go and there were limits on when we could go if we had been able.
Thus during our capture-by-Covid, what we wore at home, with no outsiders to view us, was limited to ratty jeans and sweats, old sweaters and blouses that might have been in style 10 years ago but were still comfortable. And nightwear looked really comfortable in the daylight hours and besides, why get dressed when you only had to get undressed a few hours later to don similar sleepwear.
But suddenly, we are able to venture outside our yards and to see people we haven’t seen in years, except for perhaps their eyes, and sometimes recognition became a challenge.
And just as quickly I wondered what I would wear on these public adventures. Those old jeans with the baggy seats and stretched waist-band elastic would be fine for the garden, but not so fine for socializing again in polite and fashionable company.
A search through the storage units produced some favourite tops from years gone by. I fondled each one lovingly and reminisced about when they were purchased and worn last. Such good memories ensued.
It was like shopping but not having to spend any money. I picked out the tops I thought would be suitable for my first public outings. I checked the collars for stains and made sure all the buttons were in place. Then it was time to match those tops with some bottoms I unearthed from a drawer.
The moment of truth came when it dawned on me that perhaps I should consider the bedroom as a fitting room. With clothes flung on the bed, I started doing the deed. By the time I was finished I figured I would be just as happy staying home in my old jeans and sloppy sweater.
There had been a massive shift in sizing over those two years. I didn’t twig to the fact the body had shifted, so much so that a blouse that once looked charming, now looked pitiful, struggling as it was to cover pertinent body parts that previously had been covered from prying eyes.
Ditto for other sweaters and shirts. And the zip on the bottoms no longer met in the middle. I broke a fingernail trying to force a button through a button hole on those same trousers. This shopping trip might not be costing money but it was draining my spirit.
The pile of wearables was set aside but did not come near to being as productive as the pile sitting there for donation to a charitable clothing store. The wearables fit, but had that shabby look after not being worn for several years or were truthfully, just plain worn out. But they did fit so maybe a good swish in the washing machine and a frolic with a sheet of Bounce in the dryer would give them new life.
At this point I’m alternating what I wear and am saving one outfit for special occasions, beyond the bank, grocery store and trips to the fruit stand and ice cream shop. With careful management, perhaps I can get through this summer without having to do any actual shopping — thus saving finances for a true spree in the fall in search of fleece-lined bottoms and long-sleeved and truly stretchy tops.
I should also find a seamstress who could possibly put some snap into the worn elastics in my jeans. Then I might look for some denim-coloured dye so my jeans will look like they just walked off the rack. That hole in the knee will be right in style.
Joyce Walter can be reached at ronjoy@sasktel.net
The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author, and do not necessarily reflect the position of this publication.
