Days 6-12 of The 24 Things Mid-Winter Toss.
My mantra for 2012 is: “One is plenty.” The bath salts and soaks in the cabinet, vitamins, and shoes are all getting used up before I buy another. If items of clothing are not worn for a season, they are given away at the end of that season, with just a few exceptions.
In spite of this, my closet is a mess again. How does it keep happening? I didn’t purchase a lot of clothing in 2011; a pair of jeans and a couple of sweaters. Yes, one was grey.
Part of the problem is that I am 45 years old, and still have no idea what my style is. If it’s not yoga clothes, I am pretty much, at a loss.
My fashion sense has improved over the last fifteen years. I used to go on dates in a man’s extra large flannel shirt and black leggings. The flannels have gone, but I am far from a fashion diva. Many have tried to help and I attempted to absorb the lessons, but I am a slow learner.
I met my husband, Michael, ten years ago. He made me nervous. He was older than me, never married, and traveled around the world many times. He spoke obscure African languages, wore cool hats, and sported a beard.
I was in a show, in New York when Michael and I were first dating. He would come into the city in between his travels and take me out. We were slowly getting to know each other.
Every Wednesday lunch, between shows, was spent with my friend and fellow actor, Adam. He was my trusted confidant. “I wonder if he’s a player”. I confessed over a shared salad.
“Listen sweetie,” Adam said and put his arm around me. “Just go for it. See what it’s all about. If he hurts you, he hurts you, at least you followed your heart.” “Besides,” He flexed his exposed bicep. “If he hurts you, call me. I will have an army of gays, up there tomorrow.”
I spent the summer with Adam’s advice. It seemed to be working well. One fall afternoon, Michael and I drove to Maine. We spent a weekend wandering in and out of shops, eating ice cream and enjoying a pre-child weekend; which you have no idea how much you should be grateful for because once you have a kid you spend all your weekends talking about your child.
“Try this on”. Michael said and handed me a wool, navy blue, Greek, fisherman’s cap. I scrunched up my nose shook my head.
“Just try it.” He faced me toward the mirror. I reluctantly pulled the cap over my ponytail.
“You look adorable.” He said.
“Really? I am not sure.”
“It looks great. Let me get it for you.”
The more he used words like adorable and love, the moreI believed that I was a hat person.
I yankeded the price tag off and sported my navy fishing cap through the streets of Camden, Maine. I was sure this new worldly fashion sense was going to work for me.
Tuesday afternoon I returned to New York City. “Nice lid” the stage manager winked and held the door for me. “Thanks!” I breezed down the hallway.
I loved my new hat.
Adam was sitting in my dressing room. “Well?” he raised his eyebrows and grinned. “How was the weekend?”
I sat in front of my mirror and arranged my show make up. “Fun” I said coyly.
“Oh.” Adam said. His mood darkened. He frowned and moved from the couch to my chair. I felt panic rise in my throat. “What?”
He put his arms around my shoulders and hugged me gently. I swallowed my panic “He knows something bad about this guy.” I thought to my self.
“Sweetie.” He removed my fishing cap and placed in on the table. “Not in New York.”
I loathed my new hat.
My husband turned out not to be a player. We have a son, who fills up both our lives. But, the problem in my closet still exists.
My Greek fishing cap sits on a shelf next to my box of stage, false eyelashes. My fashion sense lays somewhere in between.
Where is that army of gays when you really need them?
Days 6-11: I am working out my confused closet, cleaning out the cabinets in the bathroom and letting go of some stuff that’s just not me. I will keep the Greek hat though. It was one of the first gifts my husband gave me and even if it doesn’t work in New York I am sure we will travel somewhere where I’ll fit right in.
Don’t forget Day 12 is your Mid-Toss Ahimsa. Take a moment, check in with your Sankalpa, and realign.
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