Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts

By Alyce Wilson

For awhile now, I've been consigning clothes regularly at the consignment store. I go through my clothes on a regular basis to get rid of things that either don't fit me properly or which I don't wear.

This is much better than my previous habit, which was to hold onto everything, regardless.

My general rule is that, if an item fits improperly, I give it the heave-ho. If it's something that does fit, I hold onto it a little longer. But if I realize that every time I try it on, I decide against wearing it, I get rid of it.

The process for consigning clothes is a bit picayune. First, you have to sign up to be a consignee, which means paying an annual fee and getting a consignee card. Then, you have to schedule an appointment to consign clothes.

You meet with the volunteers who work at the consignment store, and they go through the clothes with you and determine which they'll take. They won't take anything with flaws or which looks too worn. They're also really particular about what they take at different times of the year, as they like to keep their clothes seasonal.

The volunteers vary in terms of pickiness. Last week, for example, I ended up with someone I'd never met before. She was particularly picky about what she would accept, to the point where she made me use a steamer to get wrinkles out of some of the items I'd brought. She set me up in another room and showed me how the steamer worked, warning me not to burn myself! I found myself wondering if this was really something she was supposed to do, but I decided not to argue.

She made comments about the clothes I was bringing in, many of which came from the juniors department. I went a little nuts when I got down to this size, and I was buying all sorts of things I wish I'd been able to wear when I was 23 but which I now realize are too young on me.

"Do you have a daughter?" she asked me.

"No," I said, my face reddening. I told her that I've just gotten engaged and I thought it was time to grow up a bit. She smiled patronizingly, as if she couldn't imagine why I'd ever bought such items to begin with.

So I wasn't particularly happy when she was the volunteer I met with again today. Right off the bat, before I'd even finished hanging my clothes on hangers, she was flipping through them and rejecting items. She told me that they're not taking short-sleeved shirts right now, because it's fall. I don't know about you, but I like to layer clothing, which often means wearing a short-sleeved shirt under a jacket or sweater. I do this regardless of the time of the year. It's just the weight and style of clothes that vary.

Fortunately, she was willing to take just about everything else I'd brought. She even offered to get me signed up to come in again tomorrow if I'd like to bring some long-sleeved items. I told her I needed some time to go through things first and decide if it was worth it.

While I was there today, I saw one of my favorite volunteers. She's the woman who I spoke to a long time ago about the fact that I'd gone from a size 20 to a size 8-10. Every time I see her, she asks how I'm doing, and I told her today that I've been maintaining for about a year now. She congratulated me.

I usually look at the clothes in the store then to see if there's anything I want to buy. It's harder than it used to be, because I don't buy anything unless I really love it. If it's boring or if it isn't as flattering as it could be, I put it back.

This morning, a lot of the items I tried on were too big, even though they were supposed to be my size. There was a pair of pants I almost bought but decided against because I thought I could do better. I did find a nice, fitted button-down striped shirt and a really cute tan patterned jacket. Even better, the shirt is a size 6!

So even when I'm paired with a more difficult volunteer, there's usually an upside to my trips to the consignment store.

Copyright 2006 by Alyce Wilson

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