It’s day seventeen of my yearlong Clothes-Buying-Fast.
But who’s counting?
Only 348 to go!
Just today I walked past my favorite high-end consignment shop on my way to meet some artist friends at a close by coffee haunt. This is the store where I get my nice things – my Lulu Lemon yoga clothes, my Italian boots, my Coach bags.
The store is small, sits on a corner and has large windows with displays of fun, funky, elegant fashion for a third of the retail price. Now, on any regular day, in past years, I would have allotted time to pop into my favorite store, peruse the well-curated wares and most likely (because, whose kidding who?) buy something.
Something new.
Something that feels good.
Something that looks fabulous.
Something I don’t need, because, well, I probably have something like it at home already.
But today was different.
Today I knew I wouldn’t be going into that store to look around and dream about where I could wear the new item I might find on my treasure hunt.
Today, I had to resist temptation.
I walked by.
Of course, I looked.
I saw the cute leather bags in the window, the snazzy cowboy boots paired with flared maroon pants. I saw an irresistible sweater I would want to try on if I opened the door and stepped in. I felt the longing, the pang, the desire, and at that point I turned my head away, focused on the few steps I needed to take to get safely to the coffee shop without walking through the doors.
“Whew,” I said to myself under my breath. “That was hard. This yearlong Clothes-Buying-Fast is going to TEST me.”
I must confess, however, last night I went to a clothing exchange. Clothing exchanges are on the “OK” list. There is no cash involved. Only clothes exchanged from my closet with other peoples’ clothes from their closets. I was lucky enough to haul home three dresses, two new pair of leggings, some “new” slippers and two gifts.
Let’s just say, I’d gotten the hit of adrenaline that happens when we find some new piece of clothing we like. Right ladies? You know what I’m talking about
Even though I’d just come home with “new” items, I felt the familiar feeling walking by my corner store. I felt the longing to run my hands over beautiful THINGS, cashmeres, silks, fondle the leather bags. And this desire is not born out of need.
It is born out of some deeper place of want.
Of desire.
Of promise.
Yes, it is a promise of having something so fabulous, so beautiful that it will make me feel that much more beautiful. It’s the promise of having some place to wear it, go out, enjoy the titillating excitement of, perhaps, a date.
Oh.
There.
I said it.
A date.
It’s been years.
It’s really been a lifetime that I haven’t dated.
Because I never really have.
I’ve never liked dating.
The truth is, I don’t know how to date.
I’m really a much better friend.
Much better partner.
But dating is so gray and in-between.
It’s all about feeling things out.
Trying things on.
Saying yes to this.
No to that.
It’s full of potential pitfalls.
Hurt feelings.
Rejection.
Misunderstandings.
Confused boundaries.
The truth is, I’d rather scrub the grout clean between the tiles on my kitchen floor before choosing to date.
I don’t want to end up in the rejection pile, like old clothes that don’t get chosen at the clothing exchange and wait in a pile to go to the Women’s Shelter.
So, perhaps this year is about getting even more comfortable with the clothes I have, the ones I already love and spend time living into the promise of my own life.
Perhaps, then the new kick ass boots, or fabulous new bag will land in my life from out of nowhere, like the non-date who will show up with no warning and it will feel just right.