Those giant yellow Planet Aid bins everywhere makes it easier to part with stuff. I keep telling myself those cute African kids NEED my old Polo tees and LL Bean sweaters. A lot of the things I have are slutty frocks from my husband searching days. Even with all the nostalgia attached to my white spandex pants, they are heading to Kenya. Maybe it will inspire Madonna to adopt the 13-year old that gets them.
I love XCVI's linen pants. They are sexy while being user friendly. I was wearing them the other day with a black tunic and my mother, who used to tell me I dressed like a French hooker (at least I was European), said, "It is so nice to finally see you dressing like a mother."
Whaaaaaat? Sorting through my mountain of clothes now, I see I have indeed started wearing things that don't even know what "Dry Clean Only" means. And I love, love fashion. I watch The Rachel Zoe Project like it is porn. But I can't be spending hundreds of dollars on clothes every season when we have college to pay for. I will say, when my brilliant Baby gets a full scholarship to Dartmouth, I am flying straight to Paris and Milan and blowing his American Funds account on Chanel and Stella McCartney.
So as I part with bags of clothes, I am starting to feel cleansed. From my old life, I am keeping all my shoes and bags, a classic St. John LBD, crisp white shirt, some vintage cocktail dresses and my Hudson wide legs jeans--classics. Everything else doesn't fit in with finger painting, family hikes and bathing the dog. I am now 95% "off the rack"
If all this means I am finally dressing like a mom, I hope it is one that can still channel her inner French prostitute so she can justify keeping her Christian Louboutin shoes--I don't think the Planet Aid people would quite know where to send those.