As we squeeze into our cozy new home, something has to give. For me, that means two boxes of old clothes– most notably a stack of race t-shirts from my former life as a physically fit runner (though I held on to the marathon t-shirts). Turning over a pile of clothes to the kind people at the thrift store is always a pleasure, and I walk away feeling both literally and metaphorically lighter.
Of course, the temptation to walk through the front door of the store looms large, and I rarely am able to resist. Owing to my recent culling of clothing, I was especially steeled against acquisition. But on the other hand, it’s easy to justify just one piece when you’ve left a bunch more at the door. Today’s indulgence was a 3-dollar shirt that caught my eye. It’s in great shape in spite of the fact that it must have been hanging out in someone’s closet for several decades. Though cotton would be smelly and saggy and faded, an old-school 100% polyester shirt is a kind of time machine.
I was herding the kids through the kitchen aisle and toward the check-out when I heard a familiar song playing far overhead: Stevie Wonder’s classic tune Superstition.
Which reminded me that while I love new stuff as much as anyone, sometimes the classics cannot be improved.