How do our childhood enjoyments affect our loves in adulthood? I think my childhood caused me to develop a particular oddity.
We were always well provided for as children, but we did not have a lot of extras, or excesses maybe I should say. Our house was nice, our clothes meticulously clean, we owned more than one pair of shoes. But we didn’t have an abundance of “stuff.”
Do I now have twenty-five pairs of underwear, one each of sneakers, functional winter boots, and hiking shoes, two pairs of walking shoes and three pairs sandals, plus an uncounted (because I refuse to total them) number of socks, because as children we had seven pairs of underwear (sometimes the cool ones with the weekday on them), seven pairs of socks and three pairs of shoes: dress for church, tennis shoes for play (probably white Keds), and whatever little kids wore in the 1960s for school.
Is this how straightforwardly our minds work?
When the seasons change, it’s a signal to switch my wardrobe. Alex thinks this event, which usually happens in spring and autumn, is funny. A traditionalist, he wear long-sleeved dress shirts year round for work. Since he is never cold, he doesn’t own but one sweaters—a gift that comes out of the drawer on the most brisk of winter days. This means he doesn’t have to dig them out of the plastic bins they’ve been compressed in during hot weather and hope they will return to their fluffy states without having to be dry cleaned or washed. This is especially irritating to me because I store the laundered clothes in airtight containers, so having to rewash/dry-clean = a big groaning ugh from me.
I take this time to purge my wardrobe. Haven’t worn it? Don’t fit it? It’s beyond new? Rips, tears, ink stains? It’s gotta go. Mostly.
Donate things or throw the item out, but purge it for sure! I’m ruthless at doing this until I see that one garment I love even though I didn’t get to wear it. Again. Someday I’m dressing for dinner in uptown Mt. Lebanon in the full length, elegant, emerald green gown I bought for a Christmas party years ago and haven’t gotten to wear. It fits like it was custom made, is the perfect length and, well, dang it, I feel like Grace Kelly every time I put it on—which is annually. I walk around in it for five minutes, Alex cracks up, and I store it once more.
Childhood Dreams Evolve in Adulthood
I announced out loud to my family at age 12 that I wanted to be a writer when I grew up. Well, I wanted to be Katharine Hepburn (particularly in Bringing Up Baby), but that slot was already filled and back then I was too shy to be an actress. I figured as a writer, I could be anyone I wanted throughout my life and share it from the safety of my typewriter.
Is that hanging onto the basics of our personalities from childhood what keeps me pursuing a writing life?
When I lived in Red Lodge, Jackie had me do the wardrobe job for her. She hates the chore. I love it. Nothing like eliminating the old to make room for the new as the next season enters—it’s the pending possibilities that I love. Jackie would supply wine or lattes depending on the time of day and we’d dive in. “But Seester,” I’d whine, “why do you still have this ugly freaking shirt?” The laughing answer, “It’s so comfortable and I love it and forget it, you’re putting it back!” She’d add the occasions for which it was perfect, “Baking, cooking, cleaning, coloring my hair, vacuuming.” The list would grow until I would relent and hang it back in the closet. Perhaps I learned retaining the impractical and ugly from her.
Do Our Childhood Favorite Clothes Follow Us to Adulthood
You have them, don’t you? Those singular articles of beat up, clothing beyond being seen by the public, but you keep them. They stay in your closet season after season. Ratty jeans with frayed hems Maybe a cotton shirt with a strategic button missing.
For me, it was sweat pants, purchased 2001, deceased 2013 at the junior department at J.C. Penney’s on a whim. The faded blue of often-washed denim, they had a small gold football and number seven on one leg. The wide elastic band stretched, making them two inches longer than my short legs, draping them low on my hips.
I’ve had flings with other sweat pants. One dark burgundy pair never conformed to my body. They never fit well enough to have me anticipate wearing them.
When Jackie and I went to Italy in 2007, our luggage was lost in a US Airways debacle. I indulged in Italian sweats from Terra Nova. They’re sky blue with narrow white stripes running the length of each leg. The material is soft, the waistband fits right, the length is good.
The burgundy pair … there was something about them. Unlike Mary Chapin Carpenter’s song, This Shirt, the pants had no memories attached. There was no saying, I was wearing these when such occurred. It was more that putting them, I relaxed. The work day is over, my chores are done, it’s time to take it easy. Time to curl up with a good book (any mystery recommendations?), or watch a favorite TV show (hooked on BritBox). It’s time to wind down, maybe get my brain to stop going in 90 directions at the same time.
We Have to Move on From Childhood Loves
Don’t we?
Those sweats had to go. But that idea was as difficult tossing my biggest wardrobe fetish: socks. I wear them until toes and heels are poking through.
I LOVE socks. Exercise socks, hiking socks, wool socks, knee socks, cashmere socks I wear with slippers, walking shoe socks, summer ankle socks. You get it, right?
Sorting socks is one organizing process I dislike. I no longer do this when Alex is home, choosing to hide from my practical, engineering-brained husband. Gold Toe black dress socks, Hanes white athletic socks, blue wool hiking socks. At REI he browses fleeces (his fetish). I head for … the Sock Rack. Buy three, get 10% off.
Stuck for a gift idea for me? Size small, I inherited my mother’s tiny feet—and I’m a happy camper. (Yeah, camping socks!) Purple, yellow, green, (the only place I’m adorned with pink)—I love every color. Stripes, swirls, graphics … I’m good. I bought my nephew-in-law blazing blue knee highs covered in eggs and bacon.
Is this sock fetish a direct result of wanting more socks when I was a kid? Was there a funky sock trend in the 1970s that I missed out on? The way I did a swirling a poncho, love beads, tie-dye t-shirts? Wait, I had a poncho, have the love beads, and tie-dyed things my mom never wanted near her wash tubs.
We kids were hard-pressed to put shoes on during hot summer days playing in the yard from sun up to sun down. Our soles got so dirty Mom washed us off in the basement, not letting us near the white porcelain tub
Are Human Psychological Motivators That Simple
Missing out on something as simple as crazy socks as a kid makes me long for them as an adult? Could explain why I still think real Popsicles with the jokes on the sticks are a special treat.
I don’t cry when another favorite pair of socks are tossed in the trash. But dang, I still miss those sweats.
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Haha – I hated socks as a kid. I would have gladly given all of mine to you. I wanted to wear flip flops every day.
I think I have trouble throwing things out before they’re 100% dead because I so often change my mind. I think I’m done with something, and three months later, I’ll start wearing it again!
Funny, Erica, I was never a fan of flip flops! I understand that–sometimes I’ll stash something for a few months and then if I go looking for it, I’ll know it’s not yet time to move it on.
I can imagine you were pretty happy at the prospect of thinning out your sister’s wardrobe.
Psst. Especially when some of that ended up in my closet.
What a fun post, Rose! I, too, have a bulging (but small) sock drawer. It’s not because I love socks as you dod, but because … living in the cold Canadian Prairies, I have to have socks for all seasons. And this heavy winter socks take up a lot of space! 🙂 I’m not as adamant as you about cleaning out my closet or drawers regularly, but I do get a sense of satisfaction when I throw sometime out (or give it away) to make more room in the closet. Cheers!
Ah, yes, Doreen, I had even more socks when I lived in Montana for ten years and certainly less socks when I lived in LA for three! Our location makes a big difference in those needs. Glad to make you smile.
I always enjoy reading about your childhood Rosemary – you had such fun!
Lack in childhood can influence the way in which we spend as adults. It can go from one extreme to another- you can over indulge or live a life of frugality. We tend to own far more than we need. I try not to take what I have for granted as there are many without shelter, food or clean clothes. Marketing professionals do their homework and know how to make one question their life – what they have and what they need.
They sure do, Phoenicia. It makes me rather crazy at times–especially in America where I feel like many people over buy things they really don’t need.
RoseMary — I had to laugh because I could identify so much with your story. Why I keep that red Chinese jacket that I wore once I’ll never know. But wait! Maybe I’ll be invited to a wedding or party where I can wear it. But I’ve been invited to weddings and parties and it’s never quite right. I could go on, but….
Oh but I love the very idea of you in a red Chinese jacket, Jeannette! Hold onto it and maybe, just maybe, this will be the year!