Today, I officially retired the fantasy of ever wearing these clothes again.

What was I waiting for? A thinner me? A younger me? A place to wear them? Not happening. They gnaw at me. I used to reminiscent; but, now the longing is gone. Enough! Let me start again, wanting something for a future, not a past. The past was great, but it’s not my future. Am I going to regret this?

I worked in the fashion and beauty business during an amazing time of designers who spoke to me, emotionally and literally. My closet was edited by Dior, Armani, Hermes, Chado, Chanel, Zoran, YSL, Prada, Calvin Klein and Manolo Blahnik. I had a wardrobe allowance because I went places representing businesses devoted to style that facilitated entrances to rooms and seats at many tables.

That was then, this is now. 

Today, I represent me. I still love the feel of a 100% cotton shirt that’s ironed with lots of starch. White pique that can contain my body. Footwear that allows me to walk for hours, often with friends. Pants that bend so I can help clean up a granddaughter’s room and a lightweight crossbody bag for a phone, credit card, sunscreen, glasses and a happy back.