What would Clinton and Stacy do?
I've been hearing the call for some time now. It had grown to "deafening." The daily visual reminders were too much. I had to clean out my closet. No longer could I avoid the entangled mess of wire and plastic and rumpled, dusty clothing. The time had come to purge, purge, purge. It doesn't matter how many times a year I do this, I seem to end up with the same amount (2 large plastic bins full!) of clothing to give away. I can't make it make sense, as I so rarely buy clothes for myself. Especially the kind that hangs in the closet. The only explanation is that they multiply after midnight. So this morning I started digging. Digging and digging and digging. Clinton and Stacy would be proud. Out went the last remaining sweater set, the ankle-length denim skirts, the dress I wore to my cousin's wedding ... 10 years ago. Here is where I always have trouble. Say there's a dress (or suit or shirt) in excellent condition, still sort of "classically stylish...