Goodbye, and thank you

I bought you because I've become obsessed with joggers and a bit of a streetwear vibe. You were comfortable, but I have gotten spoiled for things that are easier to get on and off than you were.

Seriously, what is with this business of shoelaces? They take so much time, and if it's a high top sneaker like you, it's not like I can just untie the laces and pull the shoes off. Nope, with high tops, you gotta unpack them suckers so much it's not funny. Really, not funny at all, because when I want to put the shoes back on my feet, I gotta tighten the laces starting all the way at the very first set of eyelets. That's just stupid, especially when I'm still angry at how hard it was to get my foot out.

It's not your fault I'm a spoiled brat, and you deserve to be loved by somebody who doesn't take issue with shoelaces. I hope you find a good home!

Goodbye, Joan Vaas blue tunic. I ordered you because you were perfect. Light blue (part of my color palette!), natural fiber, great length, rather well-made for the price point...

Unfortunately, I am a bull in a china shop and I also love coffee (those two things can't possibly be related, right?)

And I spilled coffee on you. Three big blobs. With no access to stain remover, soap, nada zero zip zilch.

I used you for a while to go with a favorite pair of leggings, but the gym was just too hot and stuffy for your nice, thick fabric. So I sent you to the textile recycling, hoping you can find a new life serving somehow, somewhere.

It was a very short love affair, but it was a real love. I shall miss you terribly. Thank you for sparking joy so intensely
XO
Cindy

Edmundo Castillo ankle booties, I truly loved you. You excited me, empowered me, and helped me look like I'd shank somebody if they got too close.

I swore we would never break up, that I would keep you forever.

Then I started having foot problems. I still held on to you, even though I knew I probably wouldn't ever wear you again. Then the foot problems got worse.

My sponsor's sister wears the same size shoes as me, so they promised to rehome all of my beautiful shoes that I could no longer wear. When my sponsor saw you, she fell in love with you. Hard, like I once did. Her foot was smaller than mine. And you were a bit small for me. So she tried you on, and you went home with her, to be appreciated and shown off like you deserve to be.

I'll miss you terribly, but I'll take comfort in knowing that someone I love has adopted you and will take care of you, have fun with you, and maybe even make people a little afraid she'll shank them if they get to close :-)

Houston, we have a problem. My washing machine has somehow made holes in 3 shirts in the last week or so. It's starting to make me sick.

Last night, when I brought you in off the clothesline, I saw little holes. A lot of little holes.

I'm not supposed to love fast fashion, but h&m made a lot of sense when I worked at the fruit stand. Too many garments got ruined at work, I had to quit spending lots of money on garments I loved when they were just getting ruined. I got you home and loved you. Perfect length, small slits on the side, silvery grey color, lightweight enough to work in this Texas heat.

I'm sad to see you go. I'll miss you very much.

I bought you based on hanger appeal. Grey, drapey, hood, thumbholes, tie belt. I loved you at first sight.

When I wore you, you made me feel cozy, even though you weren't very warm. When I looked at myself while wearing you belted, I realized that the belt was unflattering, because it hit me at a wider point than my natural waist. That made me wear you a wee bit less.

I still wore you, however. And it showed. You had pills, and that was the final straw. I'm currently not feeling the threadbare dystopian vibe anyway, so off to the donation bin you go. Thank you for making me feel mysterious and cozy while we were together.

When I discovered Babooshka, I fell in love with her tops. You served me well for years and years, and you finally got too worn out to continue wearing. There were just too many holes, and you were a star in your own right--you didn't need holes to distract from your awesomeness.

Letting go of you is especially hard since Babooshka is no more. Thank you for being such an amazing part of my wardrobe for so long!

This is a hard goodbye letter to write. You were one of my most favorite pairs of shoes. You even earned me the nickname "Imelda" in the little town of Uncertain, TX. I still remember the day you arrived: late spring, how bright the sky was, the trees beginning to become full and green, the excitement as I dug through all the tissue paper to try you on, and the bliss my feet felt when I slipped them into the buttery soft leather.

You served me well for a lot of years. Sadly, I have not treated you as well as you deserved to be treated and I have allowed you to slip into a shabby state that can't be remedied. As much as I love you, it's time to take you out of rotation in my closet.

It's proving too hard to say goodbye, so I think I'm going to say "until I see you again" and go put you next to the bed to serve as my slippers to be worn with pyjamas at night after I've showered away the day"s dust and grit.

We had a good run of it out in public. We attracted attention (the good kind), and we walked many many miles together. Thank you for your service, you will be sorely missed.

You were my favorite work jacket: soft, warm, and able to take the abuse of my job. I counted on your presence to keep me warm on those cold days during firewood season. You comforted me, you kept me somewhat dry, you kept me warm.

I didn't want to let you go. But that drunk dude came in right before closing time, and his sob story was epic. I was afraid he wouldn't go away, and I'd be trapped there with him trying to talk me into saving him from his self-induced dilemma. It was cold, and he was on foot, heading the opposite direction of our home (not that I'd have let him in the truck with me if we WERE heading the same direction).

My 12 step recovery has taught me that random acts of kindness must be part of my life, because I can only keep my serenity by giving away the good that was so freely given to me. So I gave you to that poor drunk dude, because he was only wearing a thin shirt and it was COLD.

I knew as I unzipped you that I would never see you again. I'm sorry I let you go; I hope you are keeping someone else as warm as you once kept me.

I love the idea of you. Soft, unstructured, somewhat delicate looking. The execution leaves something to be desired. I wore you all day today, and I have sore toes that might have blisters when I wake up tomorrow. That is unforgiveable.

My life has no use for "sitting shoes", so off you go to find a new home.

Its not your fault you're leaving me. I just could t stand the lack of shoe storage situation any longer. I kept finding shoes that I FORGOT I owned and that's just ridiculous. I also found that I was splitting wears; there were other shoes I'd rather have worn, but I felt guilty for leaving you untouched in the closet. That was unfair to you and my other shoes, so I'm passing you on in Hope's that you find a home that will appreciate you and wear you out of love rather than obligation.