Shit about Shi(r)ts

The website reads it’s “Not the usual thrift store!” Let’s call it Bison Swap. So I have been given the task of sorting out what clothes to get rid of in my house. That means 30 years accumulative of fashionable teenage in-and-out the catalogue. Some hipster shit. That means some buck. 

“You’re not going to wear that out with me.” My mom says this to me all the time (she said it yesterday). “You take too long to get dressed.” Yeah, all my friends say that too. Man, it’s this kind of accumulation of crap that should get recast to fit with all those ant-capitalist arguments. It’s hard not to think of this as a family’s greed; however it can be thought of as a first-generation-family’s struggle to dress for success. Thirty years of keeping that up. 

I ended up with three trash bags full and that’s barely half. Moving back and forth from the basement to the second floor, after about two hours, I sorted, threw all the old threads. 

*Loafers from Gap that are Crest white with a pink rubber gumsole that look like Ducky would’ve worn ‘em, but I get that too much so out they go.

**Salvation Army sweaters. I got so many of ‘em. Too many. Oxford University. Pennsylvania. Austria: No Kangaroos Here. I guess there weren’t too many activities tailored for the young and hip I thought it was - at least while store hours were open. 

***Track suits. My family has at least one for every member (before their fourth child surprise-me.) Did they go to the Olympics before I was born? They would’ve seen Pelé I think.  

****T-shirts. I can’t believe how many I can’t part with. My Prep Basketball shirt that I caught from a t-shirt cannon. My sister’s Comm camp counselor T. My Obama campaign shirts. My Owl Stations, Tigers Jaw, Sw!ms t-shirts (what happened to my Okay Paddy shirt) 

*****Finally I get rid of these purple skinny jeans. Purple. What was I thinking?! First off, I’m not that sartorially fixated that I can just wear those without feeling like (and probably being called) some Nancy. Well really, I’d probably just look like the Incredible Hulk. 

******My Puerto Rico polo. I took that out of the bag. Otherwise, the only thing I’ll have that I bought from Puerto Rico is porn. And that story’ll be up next week.