Messy wardrobe reconstruction
An inseparable part of womanhood
Imagine one fine evening. I have a dinner date. Fortunately, my office work gets over in time. You know how rare it is. I put my laptop on sleep mode ( Ah yes! I don't have OCD to shut it down every day. It offers me precious 5+ extra minutes the next morning and I can hop on any call in a single key wake-up option.) I call my boyfriend and confirm if the plan is still on (better to confirm than waiting alone at a table in the restaurant until they kick you out. (Not that I have any such past experiences.)). (Ahh! Enough distractions Devashri! Come to the point). My man is willing to pick me up in 30 mins. I am a strong, confident, and independent woman who is flattered with such an offer. I ran into my bedroom, open our wardrobe to select the best outfit for the romantic evening. I look at my section of clothes and it's all messy. My sister's section is no exception. ‘This proves that she is not adopted!’ ( My unpredictable chain of thoughts never stops to amuse me.) If you haven't figured it out already, I (have to) share my wardrobe with my younger sister because apparently sharing is caring. She takes this to a new level and borrows my fancy tops when I am out.
Anyways, I start looking at the available options. I have numerous sets of Kurtis and leggings. That's very office types!
Next!
I have these cute T-shirts with cartoon characters on them. I can pair them with black or blue jeans or jeggings. Oh, wait! They are too soft and comfy. What if they make me sleepy and I yawn when he is complimenting my beauty? T-shirts are banned on date nights going forward.
Next!
Black Polka dot top with a fancy knot on the front side. Good option! No ironing required. I can get ready in 10 mins. Perfect! Wait a minute. Isn't this the same one I wore last time when we went to the comedy club?
Next!
Other short tops !?! They are suitable when you are hanging out with your friends Devashri. (Not your boyfriend.)
Next!
Pile of Punjabi/Chudidar/Anarkali/Patiyala dresses. Few sarees laying around. Nah! These are very ‘Shaadi types!
Next!
I am officially out of clothes. My mobile phone beeps. One new message pops up. My sweetheart is downstairs waiting for me.
Panic Attack!
Panic ATTACK!!
PANIC ATTACK!!!
I simply pull out all of my garments on the floor. I don't have a plan. Not even pla..( Says Phoebe in me). Devashri focus! Just close your eyes and wear the first thing you pick up from the floor. Yeah! This is doable. Let's do this! I bend down hurridly and my hand stumbles on something with a net. I anxiously open my eyes.
Voilà!
I am thrilled with my selection. I have picked up a wine-colored knee-length dress with net sleeves. I always kept this dress aside for a perfect occasion. I gather the rest of my garments and stuff them up in my section. Messy wardrobe becomes messier but who cares?
I get ready in no time. I walk down and he stares at me in amazement. My genius plan saves the day! We then went out for a nice dinner. On our ride back home, we stop for mango ice cream. He drops me off at my residence and says “You never stop impressing me, dear”. I feel a magical sweet sensation as I knock on the door. Definitely an ice cream after effect.
I am singing “love me like you do” when my sister opens the door. I throw my purse on the couch, run into the bedroom and jump on my bed. My mom gives me this killer look that instantly reminds me that I should treat this place like a house and not a hotel room. I try hard to get up and freshen up. I see my mom heading towards our wardrobe to put freshly washed laundry. My brain screams “ Stop her! STOP her now!” Before my nervous system could process this red alert, mom opens the door and a pile of clothes falls on her head. Brain freeze. My body stops processing all external inputs.
The moment has passed. The damage is done. I spent the next two hours folding all my stuff and neatly arranging them in my section. I categorize them as fancy vs daily wear, traditional vs trendy, and branded vs local produce. I even label each subsection. Some of my favorites deserve a final goodbye. I started packing them in a bag for charity. I am not spoiled. I am giving them up for valid reasons such as
1. Too small: I can not bend, raise a hand, or jump in public.
2. Too big: Represents me as a chubby teddy bear.
3. Overused: Almost twice a week. Are in good condition but not so attractive.
4. Gifts: A whole stock gifted by relatives that I hate because of outdated design/poor color combination/texture/comfort and other countless reasons.
5. Blah Blah Blah …
Okay! Accepted! I am a bit spoiled. My sister eagerly scanned the bag and chose some lovely dresses which won't fit me anymore. I knew it. She was secretly praying for this day to come. Crap! I could not even argue. It was painful. I heavily sighed and looked at my section. There was a lot of new space available. Aww! My section was all empty. Empty and SAD! ‘I can not do this. This isn’t fair. I better go shopping tomorrow’- My brain screams. Trust me, I am not selfish. I am only doing it for the sake of my wardrobe. My dearest wardrobe!!
( Tom Kuegler: If you are reading this then the tips and tricks that you shared on YouTube do work! Thanks, man! Do let me know what do you think of this piece )
