Relinquishing

Good wear, I can’t remember when that wasn’t an overused description applied to quite a few wearable items I cherished and/or currently own,

Listening to the news this morning, I realized with a jolt how totally incomprehensible even the thought of good wear has become and in reality always has been,

In the current climate of turbulence, everyday and every moment must be considered the precise time for all good wear.

For most of my adult life I sheltered treasured items in a small section of whatever closet I owned; always awaiting the perfect moment to adorn the esteemed garment.

Early in life my good wear was destined to be worn only for Mass on Sunday and/or the weekly visits to grandparents.

In later years, it would be brought to light for family events, both good and bad, i.e., weddings and also funerals. I remember one classic camel hair coat from Macy’s that served both my sister and I for several of those memorable occasions

Several springtimes later while I was still quite young (but employed and full of romantic dreams,) a very special Ceil Chapman navy blue taffeta dress would emerge from my closet and be worn whenever dining or dancing with a new male acquaintance (being ever hopeful he might be the Prince Charming every female awaits.)

Soon after when I was blessed to unexpectedly meet the man I loved forever after, I wore my treasured “good wear” Anne Klein yellow linen suit on a cloudy April afternoon to meet his parents. I might add the vivid color had absolutely no impact on his Mother’s negative opinion. However, that is best a tale not retold.

Today and still with the remnants of some lingering items of good wear (sequined silver slippers, faux leopard scarf, and a few more unique treasures) hanging in the dark recesses of a closet, I realize how futile the term is, was and always has been.

While Covid slowly seeps away from our consciousness and is replaced by another dormant fear, nuclear and/or chemical warfare, I understand with clarity, that every moment of life calls for our good wear.

And now I must begin to purge the overcrowded closet of barely remembered treasures and mementoes of youth, (a Ralph Lauren black velvet sheath and the fragile wisp of red chiffon) that embrace memories never to be shared.

Admittedly, it will not be easy relinquishing yesterdays, but it will be done.

Since I recently removed myself from the land of bargains, sales and outlets, my new designer of choice has neither a first nor last name.

It is known simply by one, Amazon, and comprehends with quiet efficiency all my needs and, wants

Time indeed marches on.