Exiting the Walgreens, a young lady with a hair-down skaterbangs mohawk walked past me and smiled a huge giddy smile. She was wearing a super tight skirt with the tops of her stockings peaking out from underneath, her shirt read "I FUCKED YOUR BOYFRIEND" in old english lettering. She flounced like she'd taken walking lessons from Mr. Jay from Top Model. And I swear to gosh, it was the most disturbing thing I saw all day. Watching her tug down her skirt every couple steps, I felt like her mom. Then I just wanted to like, throw a burka over her like a Spidey net, and take her home and lecture her about how even though high school rebellion is a must, there is pletny of time coming up--her college years--in which to give it all away and dress like the dorm slut, and even be the dorm slut if she wants. I prayed that she is just in some Distillers style hardcore band and on her way to go play a show somewhere.
Cleaning yr closet when the windows are open and birds are chirping cutely, instead of psychotically, and neighbors are out grilling flank steaks and my dog is napping in cycles, following the sunbeam cast through the screen door around the living room carpet, all cute and snoozy and hot-eared? Difficult to the extreme, dude, but it needed to be done. Not only did it need to be done, but my MOMMY had to ride into town in her shiny black luxury sedan to help me. Because I am completely inept at this sort of thing. Keeping decade-old sundresses that my thighs and I will never donn again? Brilliant plan! Every single item I own that was once black and is now gray? I might need it, don't touch that teeeshirt. Old navy capri pants? Why, no, I couldn't tell you why I own these but NO NO NO DON'T THROW THEM OUT NOOOOOOOOO.
Also, I own aprox. 7,500 wire hangers from the dry cleaners. I horde them like an old spinster.
One time in 10th grade I had some sort of concert or awards ceremony or something and my mother realized she had raised a daughter who DID NOT OWN A DRESS, only converse and cutoffs even in February, so I had to borrow something appropriate, and Casey whats-his-name took one look at me as I walked into the auditorium and said "Wow. you are dressed just like your mom."
Be prepared for more of that, only this time it's probably okay, or at least better than what I've been dreaming up fashion-wise on my own. After the Great Closet Purge of March 25th, I own like twenty articles of clothings total. and I kind of like it. New, monastic clothing experience. My mom just downed the last of her ginger ale, gathered up a bunch of bridesmaids dresses for prom season donation, and was all "Go shopping, I beg of you. I don't want to see you showing up at one more baby shower I throw looking homeless."