The Secret Life of Clothes

We don't know the adventures that await our clothes. It sounds funny, but their life is just as exciting as ours is. For as long as we love them, they love us back, and coincidently, they see just as much as we see. Our favorite sweatshirts we can't bear to let go of have been to more places than most children have. They live life and see everything; from a different perspective.

A concert t-shirt worn by a rebellious teenager has seen things most conservative adults wouldn't dream of. Bought at a hard rock show, the shirt patiently waits in its paper bag until the following Monday when it is worn and bragged on by the wearer. The shirt has never heard such compliments, being on sale almost the entire tour, just waiting for a gangly boy to buy it, three times his size.

A prom dress gets only one night of glory, but it is always a memorable one. It silently waits at the store, watching the overpriced size ones and fours fly off the racks. Finally, one day, a shy girl walks in with her mother. She tries on the plain dress, and amidst the sparkles, the spandex, and the usually revealing, she chooses the plain white one. Sometimes prom dresses find high school fantasies, yet they also find high school heartbreak.

A black suit worn by a gruff and ragged old man can have many destinations, this time for the funeral of his wife. The suit has been in the closet since their wedding day, almost fifty years ago, and it is happy to see the light of day once again. The condoloences are flying, but it is basking the autumn glow. As the old man sobs in his hands, the suit is relishing its return. Then the events end, the old man goes home, and the suit goes back in its bag. It won't come out again until seven months later for the man's funeral, when it will be permanently eclipsed in black, in the grave.

A newborn's hat waits with hundreds of others, some blue, others pink. It waits for the day it will be chosen to cover the head of a precious new life. The baby boy's name is Henry, and the eager blue hat is swiftly placed upon his head moments after birth. The parents croon and adore, the mother cries. Henry grows, and the blue hat is saved in a chest downstairs. It sits with other baby clothes, toys, and hair clippings, hair that was once inside the little blue hat.

Being the mother of the bride is a job some mothers celebrate and others dread. Letting go of a child is never easy, and no piece of clothing knows this better than the mother of the bride dress. Given a bad reputation for being ugly and over-the-top, its knows its duty well: soak up the tears. Whether the mother is happy or sad to see her little girl grow up, the dress knows there will always be tears.

We never know the adventures that await our clothes. Whether the memories are good or bad, we live them all, and so do our outfits. They see our happiest highs and our saddest downs. They never judge us, just wrap their silent arms around us, and accept us for who we are. They live life, just like us.