Goodbye, h&m lyocell top. I'm sad to see you go

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.


Goodbye hoodie cardigan

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.


Goodbye, Babooshka tunic. I'll miss you terribly

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!


Goodbye, Vic Matie loafers

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.


Goodbye, fleece jacket. I'm sorry I let you go

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.


Goodbye, embroidered blue babouche loafers

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.


Goodbye, cowboy rock star ankle boots

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.


Goodbye, heavy necklace

I don't know how it happened, but I found you under the checkout counter at work. It's a shame, because I really liked you. You had presence and weight, and the faux leather fabric didn't give me heat rash on the back of my neck.

I'm sorry I was so careless with you, heavy necklace. I shall miss you this summer when I want to accessorize but don't want heat rash.


Good bye, edgy flats, I can't let you hurt me anymore

These were a wonderful addition to my shoe rotation. Basic black with a twist. The pointed toe & metallic studs on the vamp and toe box were edgy cool enough to make me order you. For a while, you performed fairly valiantly, but when I wore you all day you failed utterly.

You gave me a blister on my big toe.

I'm not the kind of person who ever needs what Angie calls "sitting shoes", so I can't justify letting you take up space in my closet. I have to pass you on to someone who can use some "sitting shoes".

I appreciate your efforts to serve me well, but I can't forgive the blister. I refuse to wear shoes that hurt my feet. I hope you find a home that appreciates your cool factor.


Goodbye, gap tall sweater

I wanted to love you. The length was perfect, the small side vents were perfect, the sleeves were beyond perfect (and made me reconsider Gap because I have a problem finding sleeves that are long enough).

The deep v neckline in the back drove me batty, so I never wore you. It's time to pass you on to someone else who will appreciate the fit of a garment made for tall women; I know how hard it can be to find.