spruced by marlene

for keeps

By Marlene | Published: 28. November 2011

Is it really Monday again? Time for a new style column on Slomo.

A couple of weeks ago, my friend Sandra took pictures of my wardrobe. Which made me notice, just how many blue shirts I own. Which made her notice, how surprisingly reduced the contents of my closet are.

Surprising, because: she had seen me in Paris, when I was extremly unreserved with my credit card. What I didn’t show her were the boxes full of clothes stacked behind a curtain in the work room, because there’s no space for them in the closet. Sometimes I’ll open one of the boxes and think: Interesting! I already own two pairs of white jeans, maybe I didn’t need the third pair. Which is when I find myself ridiculous, shut the box and take it to the flea market.

For a few years now the number of boxes has gotten less. Not because I go to the flea market that often. But because I’ve gotten better at avoiding bad buys. I didn’t really need a third pair of white jeans. But I do need all of those blue shirts. And that drawer full of white t-shirts. The v-neck sweaters. At some point I noticed that those are the things I want to wear again and again. As they suit me (and, no, I’m not going to calculate just how much it has cost me to reach that conclusion).

And then there are those things I could never give away, no matter how long I haven’t worn them. Some of them cost a lot of money. Some cost almost nothing. All of them mean more to me than just a piece of fabric. Those are the things there will always be room for in my closet:

*This denim jacket. Bought for eight Marks when I was 15 on a flea market in Stade, together with – can you believe it? – tie-dyed bell-bottoms. The trousers are long gone. The jacket reminds me of: long summers in Denmark, drinking beer from cans, the first music festival and sitting in the “Mülltonne” (yes, the bar in Stade was really called the “trash can”) until six in the morning, unable to talk to THE boy. I think I’ll wear that jacket until it falls apart completely.

*A blue shirt, given to me by a friend in Boston, as she didn’t have room for it in her suitcase going back to Sweden. I’m not sure what became of her. But her gift started my collection of blue shirts.

*A long silk dress that James made me for a wedding a couple of years ago. Because it’s the first piece he made me and because it’s so precious, I save it to wear only a few times a year.

*A dress by Twenty8Twelve, bought in New York. Ah, New York! My friend Aaron and I had been walking around Manhattan all day when we eventually landed at Saks, tired, but happy. There it was, the dress. I remember that the shop assistant who sold it to me was called Norma Jean. I couldn’t afford the dress really, but Aaron just said: put it on your credit card and then let me take you out in it! And that’s what we did. An unforgettable night.

*A white cheesecloth blouse with a crocheted neckline. Because it was my mother’s when she became my mom.

And what are the things you could never give up?

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  1. lis
    Posted 28. November 2011 at 17:08 | Permalink

    lammfelljacke. von mama, aus den 70ern. der zahn der zeit hat überdeutlich an dem guten stück genagt. aber: ist von mama. und aus den 70ern.
    eine seven-jeans mit mega schlag aus einem absurd großen vintagestore in san franciso. für 20 dollar. winzige größe, ich passe lange nicht mehr rein. aber es war damals der erste urlaub – ich sag nur: road trip! – mit meinem liebsten, der die zeit zwecks studiaustausch in den staaten war. über weihnachten hatten wir uns dann in kalifornien nach vier monaten (!) wiedergesehen. seufz und hach und überhaupt … der schönste urlaub ever. ganz einfach.

    • Marlene
      Posted 30. November 2011 at 14:48 | Permalink

      Oh, Lis! So schöne Geschichten! Ich habe in meinem Kleiderschrank auch noch ein Stück kalifonischer Geschichte, ein T-Shirt von Rasmus, erste Liebe, ein Surfer aus San Francisco. Hat mir natürlich das Herz gebrochen, der Hund. Aber das T-Shirt hat all die Jahre gut überlebt. Eine schöne Erinnerung an einen längst vergangenen Sommer.

      Ich wünscht übrigens, meine Mutter hätte mehr von ihrer Garderobe aufgehoben. Allein ihre Sonnenbrillen aus den 80ern! Allein die Hosen aus den 70ern!

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