The day after Rachel's clothing swap, I'm wearing some new-to-me faded skinny jeans. I'm admiring my new collection of fall sweaters. I'm feeling glad that my red, never-before-worn cardigan is now owned by someone who might get some use out of it.
I'm smiling at some of the things co-swappers said:
"My husband said, 'Please get rid of those skirts!'"
"I was punk in high school, goth in college."
"I could never find an outfit to go with those boots!"
"I want the back-story behind these jeans."
"I worked at Ross in high school."
"We must not be a dress-wearing group."
"Someone will appreciate these warm sweaters."
I'm remembering trying on clothes in Rachel's basement, looking at myself in a long, horizontal mirror resting on the floor so that I was kneeling on my knees & tilting my head a bit to see each item on me. I could hear the buzz of people talking & laughing upstairs--friends, sisters, & coworkers enjoying each other's company as much as they enjoyed unburdening their closets & picking up a few cute new things.
I'm not missing the things I lost to the swap.
I'm feeling a little sorry that we do this only once a year.
A few photos taken mostly before the swap began...