I have a friend who judges women on whether or not they remember where they were when Lady Di died. She uses this as a barometer for what kind of woman you are. If you can’t remember or don’t care my friend would instantly dismiss you as “not her kind of girl.”
Well I can take that concept a step further…I know what I was wearing when Lady Di died—a pair of burnt orange Gap jeans, a gray short sleeved t-shirt and a pair of ratty Nike Pegasus shoes, sans socks. I was probably wearing a bad bra too; I don’t remember the brand. Underwear? Who knows? I had been painting my office and made a quick trip to the paint store when I heard the news. I wish I had been more appropriately dressed for the occasion. It was Lady Di after all.
I know it’s silly and probably a giant brain drain but like songs from the 70s I remember almost every important event in my life by the outfit I wore. I am not just talking about clothes I wore in pictures; I am talking about clothes that I wore to my first gyno appt., my first kiss, and my first day of third grade. The list goes on and on, it’s kind of embarrassing.
I also have a list in my brain of my top ten outfits of a lifetime. It starts with an ensemble from third grade. A knit pant suit with yellow and white horizontal striped bell bottoms (who knew that was ever a good look) and a solid yellow knit tunic. And then there was the pair of footless black leggings paired with a fuchsia shaker sweater that went down to my knees—In retrospect I looked like The Big Fig Newton with a ratty perm. Then there was the Rayon black blazer from The Limited that I wore with pleated Seattle Blues acid washed jeans, The Nicole Miller aqua and black print flapper dress with the long waist (it looked hideous on me but I loved the print).
I won’t bore you with the rest of my top ten, but here’s my point. Apparel makes my world-go-round. It’s part of who I am, how I approach the world and how I organize my mind. Weird, and quite possibly shallow, I know. Just think of all the world’s problems that have been left unsolved simply because my brain is filled with memories of polyester and wool. But, oh well, that’s me.
For the record, as I write this I am wearing a J. Crew heather gray long sleeved cotton t-shirt, a pair of strategically ripped jeans by Big Star, my Frye engineer boots with Hue stripped socks, a pair of Calvin Klein undies and a flesh colored Natori bra.
Tonight I was with my friend Portia who has been contemplating going on this diet for 11 months now. I told her that I have decided to extend the diet for one more year, in light of the fact that there have been so many people interested in joining the effort in the past few weeks (here we go again). When I told Portia it wasn’t too late to realize the benefits of clothing deprivation she hooped and hollered “That’s what I need, a closet colonic.” The visual made me gag. She went on to claim, “Deep within my big, fat, bloated walk-in closet there is a skinny one begging to be free.” Portia, warming to the idea, is going to “think about it,” before she commits. Let me be clear…I am not doing this for another year myself but I will moderate, facilitate, contemplate and write about life post diet. 
O.K., I am not proud. I have told nearly every woman I know that I am simply starving on this @#$%^& diet. The good news, my incessant complaints and whines have been rewarded with hand-me-downs from friends and family (maybe they just want me to shut up). Now, these aren’t Oliver Twist castoffs. Remember, birds of a feather flock together. My friends and family have hand-me-downs with tags still on them or barely worn items that they “bought on a whim,” and shouldn’t have (you know the story). I am sorry for their mistakes, but not really. I’m glad to be the one who can take these items off their hands. Most importantly their gifts are going to good use. Just last week I received a beautiful wrap from my mother, a white knit item, just like Meryl Streep wore in the movie It’s Complicated. I am now wearing a pair of pewter Donald Pliner slides and a great pair of lulu lemon tights my yoga friend gave me (she has three of the same pair). So my point? Tell people you will gladly take their shopping mistakes off their hands. They will fell great about it, especially if you wear them again and again. Now go forth and tell the world, “I am hungry, feed me your scraps!”
I love, love, love jeans. I love that I work on the west coast and in software so it’s completely acceptable to wear jeans to work—not just on ‘casual Friday.’ I love to wear them with a simple T-shirt, a cool belt (favorites from 
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