Hello! With all the cold weather, I’ve been locked inside most days working on my little projects and writing, writing, writing. For down time, I have been glued to my bookcase. I tend to stock up on books during summer yard sales and sidewalk sales and get caught up on my collection during the winter months. I mean, it’s cold outside, what else am I supposed to do??
Another big book season is Christmas. Both my families know how dearly I enjoy sitting down for some quality time with a blanket and book so I usually find at least a few of them under the tree. This year, my sweet in-laws gifted “Worn Stories” by Emily Spivack to me. I’ll admit, I couldn’t wait for all the present un-wrapping to end so that I could sneak away and read through it!
I made it through the book in a couple of hours and have since re-read it. The book is a series of stories written by strangers who have come together in the name of nostalgia. Each author chose a piece from their wardrobe that has some sort of sentiment (good or bad) attached to it. Like life, some stories are beautiful and others a bit more tragic, but each tells a little secret truth about the authors’ lives.
As I read through the mini memoirs, I was struck with the recognition of weaving memories into the threads of our clothing. Now, I know I am in the midst of purging my closet in hopes of a more minimalist wardrobe, but there are a few pieces that I will never be able to get rid of.
If I were to choose I piece for my worn story, I would pick this sweatshirt that’s been handed down threefold to get to me. The shirt started its life with my dad who wore it on date after date with my mom. Once they were married, my mom inherited (well, more likely stole as us wives tend to do) it and held on to it for a good while. A lot of my childhood memories revolve around her wearing it. At some point Mom passed it on to my older brother to my dismay and he continued to break it in for a few years. He finally outgrew it and my time came to call it my own!
I love this piece for everything it is and isn’t. I love that it isn’t thick and warm anymore because the thread barren softness is incomparable! I love that it’s a proud representation of where I no longer live. Each time I wear it, I feel just a bit closer to New England. As time goes on, I plan on keeping the sweatshirt well-loved until I have a babe of my own to pass it along to.
Until next time!