Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts

By Alyce Wilson

After last weekend's shopping spree at the thrift store, I decided I should go through my clothes again and get rid of the ill-fitting and the ignored. I decided it would be fitting to donate a bag or two of clothes to American Rescue Workers.

The other night, I finally got around to watching Martha Stewart Inc., which I'd taped off NBC when it aired. While I watched it, I kept bringing armfuls of clothing into the room and trying them on. In a pile on the floor went the discarded: too large, too strange (even for me), too pink.

My dog, Una, watched me with a big smile on her face the whole time. She thinks it's funny when humans put on clothes.

As always, I was shocked to see how much bigger some of these clothes were which I hadn't tried on in a year or more. This would be more difficult to believe if I hadn't had other evidence delivered to me in the mail that very day, namely a photo a friend took when she visited me in late December, 2001.

Here's that picture, compared to a web cam photo I took last week:

After I'd separated out my pile, the real work began. I had to get them into the proper condition to donate them, which meant cleaning and repairing them. Most of them could just be dumped in the washer, but some others required more drastic help. For example, some of them were dry clean only, which was why they'd been at the bottom of my hamper since they'd actually fit me! A gray dress shirt had a red dye stain on it, obtained when I mistakenly washed it with a brand new red shirt.

Inspired by watching Martha Stewart Inc., I had a domestic kind of day. I did not, however, engage in any insider trading.

First was a stop at K-Mart (just because it was close, not because of the Martha Stewart connection, I swear) to buy the necessary supplies: a home dry-cleaning kit by Dryel, some Rit dye, some detergent and some thread.

The home dry cleaning kit was so easy that I went a little overboard and started dry cleaning anything in my closet which called for it. The chemicals must have gotten to me.

Then came the dying. I was dying the gray shirt dark blue, figuring that would cover nicely over the red. While I was at it, I dyed a white T-shirt yellow to cover up a prominent stain.

As I stirred the clothing in the dye, I thought about the Tie-dyed Summer, when my brother and I made a bottle of blue Rit dye stretch far enough to tie-dye half a dozen shirts using different tie-dye methods. I also thought about how he and I once tie-dyed shirts at a family campsite throwing a tie-dye night for the kids. We'd rinsed the tie-dyes in the ocean; the salt water was supposed to help set the dye.

I got so excited about the results of the dying (both of which came out excellent) that I decided to do some more. The next day I bought some dark green dye to dye a blazer I have that has seen better days. For some reason, after years of hanging in the closet, unworn, the forest green jacket had turned red in spots. Now that it fits again, I found it fitting to restore it to its original deep, dark green.

When all of that was done, I started hemming a shirt which I'd once made by cutting off a dress. I'd never really worn it and figured somebody else might, but first there was the little matter of the ragged hem.

Sewing reminded me of happy hours spent with my mother, while she cut out fabric from a pattern, then sewed it on her aqua colored 1970s Singer. When I was younger and she was a stay-at-home mom, she used to make dresses for my sister and I, including matching Easter dresses one year. They were pale pink with flowers, proud of our coordination. Mom also sewed elaborate costumes for my sister for Halloween, usually making her an adorable fuzzy animal, such as a cat or a raccoon.

I was reminded, too, of sewing projects we used to do for 4-H, and how I made myself a simple drawstring nightgown. It was a very easy garment, literally made of just two pieces of cloth with a draw string at the top, but I was so proud of it I wore it for years.

I also thought about my maternal grandfather and how, while living with my mother, he used to steal her flannel shirts, cut off the tails and hem them to fit himself. He always used the most durable thread he could find, and his stitches were small and regular. Anything he darned stayed that way forever.

I've always preferred to make simple clothing repairs by hand. There's something meditative about threading the needle, making a knot in the end and dipping the needle into the fabric, pulling it through. The repetitive motion is calming.

And more rewarding is the feeling of accomplishment, of self-sufficiency. To transform something into a ragged garment ready for the trash heap into a refreshed entity, ready to start all over again, gives me a big old feeling of pride.

It pleases me to think that somebody will find these clothes on a rack in a thrift store, examine the freshly darned, cleaned and pressed clothing and get excited about their find. The refreshed clothes will find a new life of usefulness rather than back-of-the-closet neglect. And maybe the garments will carry along a little of the feeling of pride and self-sufficiency, or even an aura of meditation.

Copyright 2003 by Alyce Wilson

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