Nothing to Wear

I lost seven sweaters to moths this year.  I read I should have sanded down my cedar blocks to refresh and reactivate their repellant properties.  Sadly, the sweaters were cashmere and in colors that made them perfect for spring transitional dressing – when its always too cold to go without a sweater and not yet warm enough for just a blouse.  The perfect solution for this time of year I have discovered, is a cozy sweater in a spring color.  And my seven were in luscious spring pastels, sorbets and brights, all collected and cared for over many years.  Dressing may be a challenge while I wait for the balmy breezes and sunny days we’ve all been promised.

It’s funny how some clothes become friends.  We remember where we were when we bought them and with whom we were with.  If it was a happy day, we associate the garment with its accompanying pleasant memory.  One of my sweaters was the poppy red crewneck I fell in love with a few years ago just days before Christmas.  It ended up wrapped and under my tree, gratis from my sneaky mother.  And whenever I wore it… I thought of her.  My tendresse for it was very real.  Lost luggage can be just as sad as seven holey sweaters, especially if it was filled with comforting “friends”.  I lost my luggage coming home from Atlanta once and as soon as I could, I made a list of what I could recall what was in my suitcase.  I quickly learned it would be the meaningful treasures I would miss the most:  the navy boyfriend sweater that really was from a bona fide boyfriend, the cable knit tights I bought in New York City on another vacation, a peacock blue velvet jacket that fit me just so.  I still think about that jacket, the nap of which my daughter’s baby fingers stroked one night as I rocked her to sleep just before I went out to a formal party.

Do I really have nothing to wear this spring?  No, not really.  I have a lovely painterly scarf with blowsy muted roses on it that I spotted in a hospital gift shop while visiting a friend.  I bought two that afternoon;  one for my friend to help make her feel better.  She did and so do I every time I drape it around my neck.  I still have the 1950’s collared wool cardigan with 3/4 sleeves and mother-of-pearl buttons that belonged to my grandmother.  Its seafoam color along with a crisp white shirt underneath, will brighten my grey workhorse trousers.  And there is the generous lavender shawl my sister recently passed down to me that now mingles both our perfumes.

I have no doubt that I will traverse through spring with my other comrades waiting just beyond the closet door.  And I’m sure, along the way…I’ll be making a few new friends too.