Leaving mountains

Early Saturday afternoon Daughter dropped in for a visit, straight from her fashion design class ( I know, I KNOW, I have a fashionista daughter, oh, irony... I thought I've done well raising her, as she is a highly regarded professional, but the kid also sings opera and designs fashion as hobbies... so what's a mother to do?), with her design portfolio and her idea board, exclaimed 'oh, sunshine' (the day was beautiful, warm and sunny, with a hint of a very early fall in the air and in the woods surrounding the lake) and promptly positioned herself on a chaise on the balcony, spreading all her stuff around and - time and time again - lecturing cats on inappropriateness of them helping her in her creative endeavors.

Her inspiration was champagne, she wanted to create an outfit that would be both effervescent and flowing, without being same old , same old. She asked my input, but, being as fashion savvy as your average lumberjack... or tree hugger (take your pick... I do dress up for work or for formal occassions but only because professional or social savoir vivre demands it and... noblesse oblige, not because I personally have any interest in it), the only way I could help was to offer her some - still unpacked - bubbly as a refreshment.

We enjoyed the bubbly together and then I went back to my bedroom to continue struggling with paring down my closet. I had already packed one - large - suitcase with clothes and accessories I am taking with me to Puerto Rico, and an - also rather large - duffel bag - with the most rudimentary household stuff I am taking with me, like high thread-count bedlinen, thick fluffy towels, my virtually irreplaceable Swedish potato/vegetable peeler and so on.

I know fluffy towels do not dry well in the humid tropics, but in this case I would trade convenience for comfort, for the sensual pleasure of fluffy towels, fluffy robe, silky and smooth sheets.

Only my High Sierra wheeled/backpack carry on with a detachable day pack (to be used as a purse on the trip) was still empty.

I have also packed another four suitcases/bags for my holiday visitors to bring with them.

I thought I had been ruthless in eliminating stuff that did not go either to Daughter (some cool and cold weather outfits I could wear when coming to Atlanta for a visit from the tropics anytime between, say, September and April) or to Puerto Rico, either with me or with my Thanksgiving visitors (both daughter and ex son in law will be visiting and both of them are supposed to check in two bags of my stuff and limit their own belongings to carry-ons - after all they are coming only for a week), my membership in Underground Knitwear Liberation Community notwithstanding (see posts and comments: Immensly proud and To pack or not to pack in minervavelsangrona.wordpress.com), but the closet, still seemed, uhhm, less than empty?

So I stood in front of it, contemplating, when my fashionista daughter came to the rescue.

'What are you doing?' she asked, so I told her. 'Mom" she laughed, 'it's easy, look'. She picked piece after piece from the closet and asked me 'do you love it?' 'do you wear it?'

Well, yes, that IS easy done that way, since I, having somewhat of a difficulty pronouncing my love to humans (though - somehow - not to cats), much less to clothing, invariably answer 'no' to the 'do you love it?' question, and each piece ends up in a pile of clothes going to women's shelter until the closet finally is empty and on the floor there is a pile of clothes as big as a mountain.

A thought, that may be someone else, someone who really needs those outfits, might, in fact, 'love them' and wear them gladly, gives me peace.

P.S. My daughter got a fashion price for her creation made of silk, bubble wrap (!) and feathers, but I was not there to see it :-(((