P 7/8/02

Work Diary, 7/8/02

This weekend, my partner and I filled six bags with our unwanted
clothing and donated all of it to some center for the prevention of
child abuse (surely a lost cause in my neighborhood, where babies are
made daily in the smoky back seats of hot rods and under the
sun-dappled canopies of park trees). That leaves about twenty-four more
bags of clothing in three closets and two dressers, not to mention two
closet floors filled to overflowing with shoes. And, yes, we wear all
of it.

Granted, some of our donation consisted of two-dollar purchases at the
local Goodwill, purchases we made in the late eighties and throughout
the nineties. But our tastes have changed and, quite frankly, I don't
see myself going out for dinner and a movie wearing a bright yellow
mohair cardigan with a black-and-white silk vest underneath. Maybe
someone will, but it won't be me.

On the other hand, a lot of the clothing we donated was new. Some of it
still had its original tag or, at least, its original sale tag (notice
how I strive to make our rampant consumerism seem okay). Some of the
clothes were gifts, things clearly purchased at the spur of the moment
by relatives or friends who were just trying to fill a box (Now, be
honest here: Would you wear a denim pull-over with the Karl Lagerfeld
logo stitch-quilted over the entire front? I didn't think so.).

I'll admit the whole closet-cleaning thing was very satisfying, even
cathartic, but doubts remain. Are we really just like the Joneses,
keeping up with all the new styles? Does shopping at Target for some of
our clothing make us better than, say, someone who does all of his
shopping at Neiman Marcus? Is buying three pairs of the exact same
jeans really helping the economy, or is it overkill? What am I doing
with all this money that allows me to nonchalantly pack up over
$2,000.00 worth of clothes and stuff it all into a fancy dumpster with
a picture of a bruised-but-smiling child pasted to the front of
it?

And, of course, the burning question: Did I really want to throw out
that Liz Claiborne shirt that makes people seasick because the design
is like a strobe light on acid?

Yes, my partner's and my closets are testaments to shame and hypocrisy.
But we sure look cute when we go out.