At present, the closet in my bedroom is chock full of separates that don’t makes outfits and a whole lot of nothing to wear. (How many of you are nodding your heads right now? All of you? Yep, knew it.) And yet I try to keep my closet color coded and neat regardless of whether or not many options actually make it out of the double doors and off their respective hangers. So most of my frocks are literally just hanging around waiting to be chosen. But as a rule, every hanger in my closet has an article of clothing to which it’s currently matched– there are no strays.
No mate means you’ve been banished to the hanger precinct– a totally separate section located in the hallway linen closet that houses dirty laundry, boxes of extra Ziplocs in snack, quart and gallon sizes, seven or eight heavy nylon dry cleaning sacks from various cleaners throughout New York City that brandish every apartment number I’ve ever rented, Fabreeze dryer sheets, three 12-packs of plain seltzer, a few old beach towels from an annual Atlantic City corporate function that I can’t bear to part with, 500 extra surgical masks, aluminum baking tins, three gallons of half-used Benjamin Moore Decorator’s White paint, a purple yoga mat, paper hand towels for the guest bathroom with a Paris theme, one can of tennis balls in neon green, several unopened reams of printer paper, non-denominational wrapping paper good for any occasion, and hangers grouped by function (clip, shirt, pant, extra strength, scarf) on a high bar above all the lower shelf commotion. Yes, I literally raised the bar to accommodate my collection.
Now be honest. Are you thinking, “Holy shit! She is absolutely out of her mind!” Or (hopefully), “Yeah, those damn stray hangers have always bothered me but I never paid much attention to them because I have a job, kids, friends, responsibilities and a LIFE.” (Okay, okay– you don’t have to scream the last part quite so loudly.) Maybe you’re silently reviewing the contents of your linen closet and wondering why I have so much club soda in mine and damn, a can of bubbly sounds so good right about now, right? Or you’re questioning why I’ve saved old beach towels. (So few people write in with comments! Let’s break that habit and start sending in some feedback, people!)
When I started this blog I did mention that I tend to zoom in fairly closely to examine the oddities of my life and make certain observations. So this is just one screaming example of what I think about and how I handle it. (Yes, texting the shrink as we speak.) I can’t exactly say why, but those strays just bother me. They are usually sandwiched between clothes I never pick. They take up space. Maybe I have ADD: apparel deficit disorder? Yeah, I have no good reason for my obvious dislike of the empties but I was trying hard to think of some convincing logic. No dice. They are just extra and not in an “extra” way. So because they are not needed, I much prefer that they are benched, and standing (or rather hanging) at attention, waiting to be called into active duty from a closet far, far away.
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