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I Love A Good Story

When Closet Cleaning Yields Buried Treasure

Like all princesses, I’m revered by the village (Mom, Dad, two psychotic terriers, my little brother’s hormonal buddies) the moment I enter the kingdom (the house I grew up in). My childhood bedroom - complete with canopy bed, natch - has not been converted into an office, den or guest room: It’s still my domain. This is good because it means I get a second closet. This is bad because it means I have to periodically organize said closet.

I recently embarked on this grueling process, and found something of extreme interest. Four words: Ralph. Lauren. Purple. Label. Where had this jacket come from? Why had it been relegated to the never-wears section? Who was responsible for this atrocity?!

Me, of course. After picking my jaw up off the floor, I recalled that Mom had bought the piece for me three years ago on a trip to Normandy. She insisted it was gorgeous, I insisted it was “not my style”…not knowing then that I had no style to speak of at the time.

The moral of the schpiel? Certain things are worth holding onto, even if you think you’ll never wear the item in question. If it’s beautifully made (and/or reeeeeeally expensive), store it, and give it a whirl six months later. You might just change your mind.

*Jeans, Salt, $99 at Barney’s Scarehouse Sale; Boots, Steven by Steve Madden, $195 (and totally worth it. Got ‘em two years ago; they still look new, I still get compliments); Lace Top, Goodwill, $12.99.