From the archives ... Cherry-coloured Doc Martens boots. Photo: Gary Medlicott
What are you hanging on to? What item of clothing can't you possibly let go of, despite your better judgement and your partner's nagging? Something held together by will, sweat and the collective memories that brought it this far.
Is it the U2 When Love Comes to Town 1989 tour T-shirt? I still have one of those. For guys it's so often a concert or band T-shirt. It's threadbare and torn, and of more use in the kitchen as a rag than as a T-shirt on your back. But wardrobes are built on history, love, and that includes musical tastes that have meandered and wandered over the years.
Maybe it's an old cap, whose repeated wearing has produced a layered salty trail from crown to brim, each layer like a ring on a tree signifying a new story or adventure. It's a lucky cap now, it will only cease to be part of the wardrobe if it's lost or stolen, though the latter option is unlikely.
I love these kinds of things, decidedly unfashionable but laden with history and romance of a kind. It probably seems so trivial now and to relay the story of its acquisition almost meaningless. Except to you.
Recently I forced myself to get rid of a pair of socks I'd had for 10 years. Once they were canary yellow. By the time I said goodbye to them they were more of a muted butter colour. They hadn't been worn in years but I hung on to them as a pleasant reminder of the time I arrived in London with no money, no job and in desperate need of socks. So what do I do? I threw caution to the wind and bought one of the most expensive pairs of socks I could fine courtesy of Ralph Lauren. I remember being so proud and then later being so hungry having just spent 15 pounds on a pair of socks when the exchange rate was 3 to 1. Never mind that I could have bought five pair of socks from Marks and Spencer for the same price, I had to go to Ralph Lauren. It was something pretty typical of me at the time, but I did love those socks.
I guess they were a mark in time for me, a badge of honour for having made it to that point, becoming in the process much more than a pair of socks.
I'm sure there are more ridiculous stories out there, tales of catching Mats Wilander's T-shirt and wearing it down to the point of regret. Or symbols of another life that lie hidden from the current version of you.
What are some of your old wardrobe loves? What do you hang onto them? Is their history stronger now than when you first acquired them?
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