Closet case

Just to be contrary, decided to buck the trend and go back into the closet last night. Or, rather, into the back of the closet. Fall showed up right on schedule, and I haven't seen my favourite sweater since April. I'm a bit fickle, so what I love today I may loathe next week. This applies to many things, but we'll limit the scope to the sartorial for now. Some of my fashion ambivalence I blame on my mixed feelings about my ass. We may have discussed this before. I have pretty awesome boobs; I'm like a particularly pneumatic Venus di Milo. But, like, with arms. My thighs, however, tend more toward the Venus of Willendorf. Luckily, none of me has the fashion sense of Venus Williams. That being said, there are some things that simply stand the test of time, thighs be damned.

My pink satin, cherry blossom embroidered, kimono style jacket. From the time I saw "Notting Hill", and Julia Roberts was wearing an Asian-inspired jacket and jeans in the dinner party scene, I wanted one. I'd like to think I was not influenced by my now shameful crush on her movie paramour Hugh Grant. I bought this in Chinatown in New York. It had to be shortened, since I'm not exactly statuesque. I love it. It makes me happy. Picks like a mother, though.

A wristful of silver bangles and cuff bracelets. These have been acquired over 20+ years. One I received from a friend a few years ago; another was a high school graduation gift; a few belonged to my grandmother. Every time I wear them, their gentle clink reminds me of the people who gave them to me. It also reminds the people around me that an armful of bracelets are noisy, so they usually end up on my desk before noon.

Red lace push-up special occasion bra. It's red. And lace. And cantilevered. Do I need to explain further? Moving on.

Brown pajamas with cupcakes on them. Well, a cupcake print, though they'll probably have actual cupcake on them by the end of the weekend. I bought these for myself as a birthday present last year. Not only do they combine two of my favourite things (flannel and baked goods), they're fantastically comfortable. Putting these on signals I am staying in. Not that I'm not usually staying in, but these make it seem like my number one choice out of many options.

A black chiffon, slightly flippy dress with illusion half-sleeves. I've had this dress for well over 15 years. I loved it from the moment I saw it. My grandfather gave me the money to buy it when I could barely afford rent. I later wore it to his funeral. I will never part with it.

I have quite a lot of evening bags, even though my evenings are pretty low-key these days (see cupcake pjs). My favourite? A small frame bag covered in cascades of black and white bugle beads that shimmer like an Art Deco waterfall. It's completely impractical, holding little more than a cellphone, a bank card and my hopes for a fantastic time. Whenever I carry it, I feel a bit like Daisy Buchanan, heading off to a party in West Egg.

A midnight blue linen tunic, with little pink chiffon flowers and embroidery around the v-neck and hem. Completely not my style, but I got caught up in the whole aging hippie, pottery making, poetry writing, ex-pat vibe of Positano during the best vacation ever. John Steinbeck famously wrote, "Positano bites deep. It is a dream place that isn’t quite real when you are there and becomes beckoningly real after you have gone." And every time I look at the tunic hanging in my closet, I know just what he means.

A pair of vertiginous black heels. Ankle strap, quite sexy. I practically need a sherpa to help me up them. They are two-hour shoes, and even then only if 1:50 of those two hours are spent sitting at a table, laughing coyly and sipping my drink in what I hope is a seductive manner. It's best if I don't attempt stairs in them, which may explain why I haven't worn them since I bought my house. They're very versatile, and go quite well with everything except sweatpants and more than three drinks.

It's a funny thing; I never know what's going to stay with me. I've had things I've happily worn for years that I've discarded without a second glance. And I have things like the old t-shirt I bought on vacation with an ex-boyfriend that I can't bear to part with (the shirt, not the boyfriend), even though the only thing I remember fondly about the relationship is the fact that I'm not in it anymore. I guess when it comes to my closet, sentimentality never goes out of style.