My elderly wardrobe

I have an elderly wardrobe. While that’s not literally true, I definitely do have some clothes that I literally have had for decades. There are reasons for that, mostly about me, but several things over the past couple months have made me especially aware of it.

A few weeks ago, a relative complimented me on a shirt I was wearing that day, one that I seldom wear. I mentioned in passing that I bought it more than 20 years ago, and he was surprised (shocked?) at that, because he gets rid of clothes when they wear out. I do, too, of course, but I have enough stuff to wear that I often go months—or even longer—without wearing a particular item (seasonal changes have a lot to do with that). At the same time, I’ve always been a bit, er, um, obsessive about how I care for them.

I’ve always washed most clothes in cold water, which is gentler on fabrics and their dyes, and I’ve always hung up most shorts to dry. I iron shirts that need it, something I’ve been a little bit better about doing after the 2023 loss of what was pretty much my favourite shirt at the time. So, having more than enough stuff to choose from, and treating the garments carefully, is part of why I've had some items for decades. There’s a separate reason why this is necessary for me: I hate clothes shopping.

Back in late 2023, I talked about why I hate clothes shopping. That post, together with a sequel from January 2024, explain why I have so much and try to take good care of it. I should add, though, that for the past couple years I buy some new shirts in the post-Christmas sales, and that, in turn, allows me to get rid of the truly worn-out shirts, because of course shirts eventually wear out.

I was thinking about all this not long after talking with my relative, and it's when I first thought (jokingly) that much of my wardrobe is “elderly”. I think (because, of course I do…) that at least some of what I wear is what younger folks might think was appropriate for an “elderly” (from their perspective) man. That may give me pause, but I also know I can’t control what other people think. Actually, I know that most days, in most ways, but on some days (like on the shopping trips I blogged about), being thought of as an “elderly” man looking for “appropriate” (meaning, “not too young”) clothes is at the very centre of my awareness. I think this is likely to settle down over time, probably by the time I really am “elderly” and—hopefully—have reached the “I don’t give a shit” phase of life. Assuming I’m fortunate to reach those years, of course.

There was one other thing that sparked all this pondering: My decluttering efforts over the past couple weeks.

Last Sunday, I published a post that was mainly about purging things, especially magazines in the living area of my house. However, I also had one paragraph in which I talked about sorting through some of my older clothes that had been stored in the guest room wardrobe. What I didn’t say is that one of those items is close to being something anyone might be tempted to call “elderly”: A sweater vest.

My childhood friend Jason’s mother knitted the sweater vest for by me, probably when I was a sophomore or junior in high school. At the time, I had several sweater vests I routinely wore, and since she was an avid knitter, and made lots of sweaters for her family, she decided to make me a sweater vest. I remember when she was making it, and how she’d frequently hold the back up against me to make sure it would be long enough (since I’m a tall boy). In the end she made a lovely off-white cable-knit sweater vest, and I loved it—and a year or so later I stopped wearing sweater vests at all.

Even so, I’ve kept that sweater vest ever since, through dozens of moves (including to and within New Zealand), because it mattered to me because she mattered to me. The sweater still fits, however, my currently rotund mid-section protrudes too much for me to feel anything other than deeply self-conscious if I wore it in public, though I did wear it recently when I had one of the frequent video chats Jason and I have (while I was sitting down… and at home…). The thing is, that sweater is around 50 years old, and that realisation shocked me. I’ll keep that sweater, of course.

In thinking about it further, though, I realised I also have a (very) few things I brought with me from the USA, like some t-shirts, a couple sweatshirts, a jacket, that sort of thing, and most of that stuff would be around 40 years old, five or take. I also have a shirt my mother made for me, probably in the same era as the sweater vest. However, there is one more thing: My Cub Scout uniform shirt, which is by far the oldest item of clothing I still have, more than 60 years old (although, oddly enough, that doesn’t fit me anymore. Huh.). So, apparently my wardrobe really is “elderly”.

This post, while it talks about real stuff, is, of course, mostly tongue in cheek. Real though all this is, I don’t take myself or the implications of having usable clothing that I’ve had for decades all that seriously. It is what is is, and all that. The reality of my, shall we say, “long-lived” wardrobe may confuse or astound some people, but as far as I'm concerned, that’s more about them.

So, none of my wardrobe is actually “elderly”—maybe “middle aged”. Still, my toungue-still-firmly-in-cheek are I are all getting ever closer to being legitimately categorised as “elderly”, so maybe my wardrobe will achieve that designation, too. Today, though, we’re all doing fine, thank you very much, and none of us are going anywhere any time soon. As far as I know. Right now, though, I need to go iron a shirt for today. That much I’m totally serious about.