When Clothes Are Love: Shopping With Mom
Reminiscing about my old clothes got me really sad yesterday. I thought about how many of my favorite pieces over the years were thrifted. And so I had an overwhelming urge to go thrifting. The first thing I did when I got home was to call my mom. Shopping with my mom has to be the single most comforting activity I can think of. Whether we’re on a “mission” for a particular item, or just “going on a jaunt” to our nearby shopping area, I absolutely love shopping together. We discuss all the little details of items, household tasks and how to do them, what we’re “into” lately in terms of life’s mundane joys. We pick out clothes for each other. We try things on. And we laugh and laugh together. When I’ve been in the most difficult throes of my illness, I’ve still had days where I could shop with Mom. She would say to me, “I may not be able to do anything to help you, but I can buy you clothes.” And it does help me. The immense comfort of having her provide basic necessities (or not-quite necessities) gives me a kind of relief that nothing else does. It makes me feel loved, like I deserve simple pleasures. Like I deserve love. And so yesterday, I presented one mission for us: to get a pair of pajama pants.
Having two pairs is just not enough in terms of laundry, but a third pair would make it work. My mom offered that she hadn’t been to TJ’s lately (TJ Maxx, of course), so we went there first. I collect about a dozen pairs of sweatpants and pajama pants. We split them between us and go into a dressing room together. I try everything on (she always considers it her “job” to replace the items on their hangers), and we divide everything into yes, no, maybe. I settle on a pair of taupe wide-leg pajama pants that cost $7.99. They have a high waist, wide legs, pockets, and pleats. My mom inspects some socks and slippers: it’s important the socks not be too tight, the slippers cannot have a lip at the heel. She chooses socks but rejects the slippers. The slippers are near the shoes, and a pair of pale pink New Balance catch my eye. But they are not wide width, so won’t accommodate my bunions. Then I spot some white Adidas sneakers with silver stripes. They look just like the ones that frequently appear on my Pinterest boards, so I try them on. They are shockingly comfortable, and since I’ve been wanting them for so long, I take the plunge and let my mom buy them for me. I’m sure these are not the most ethical or sustainable purchases, but I’ll speak more to that later. Pleased with our three items, we leave victorious and giggling. As we walk to the car, she asks where else I’d like to go. I express my great desire to go thrifting, mentioning my declutterer’s remorse over getting rid of so many great thrift finds. We hit Saver’s, which tends to stock more plus-size clothes than the charity shops. We start with sweaters. Then I can’t find long sleeve blouses, so my mom gets to work tracking them down. A quick stop at men’s pants and dresses, and then to the dressing rooms. The first few pieces are a no-go, especially since I’ve taken to going braless. But a bright green corduroy button-down shirt from Land’s End reminds me of a similar thrifted piece I once had and loved, so it’s a yes. A random light blue Hanes t-shirt is soft and faded, and also gets a yes. The dresses (to be worn as tops) don’t work, and neither do the men’s pants. But a sleeper item, an underdog, becomes the star of the haul: a maroon, marled sweater poncho from Land’s End is just too good to pass up. It reminds me of my grey short sleeve cardigan that doesn’t quite fall right because it’s too small. But this one fits great. My mom comments on how nice it looks, and that I can really “pull off” a poncho-style piece, like her friend Susan (my mom is extremely petite, and is swamped in these styles). All three pieces feel warm and soft, but also colorful—things my wardrobe desperately needs. They feel like things I would have worn in the past, when I cared less what people thought, when I was braver, more independent. But they’re also muted, soft, broken-in. I feel like this is the direction in which I want my wardrobe to go. Comfortable, comforting, but things no one else has. Things maybe most people wouldn’t wear, but that match up with me perfectly. They feel like mine already.