You know how we all have a special song linked to a specific memory? Yeah, that song that, even 10 or 15 years in the future, still takes you back to that one dance at prom? Or maybe to the moment you found out you were going to be an aunt? Or the time you finally had the guts to make the first move, even if it didn’t entirely work out in the long run? Yeah… Most people link their memories to music. Me? I link my memories to clothes.
I have a good memory for most things, but clothes… clothes I never forget. I remember exactly what my best friend was wearing the day I met her on the first day of second grade (a baby blue Limited Too t-shirt, with a gymnast on it). I remember exactly what I was wearing the first time I had my first kiss (pink Abercrombie hoodie and my stripped pjs). I remember exactly what my ex, who is now a really close friend, was wearing the day we met. I remember exactly what I was wearing the day I moved in with my father, or the first time I felt truly empowered and unafraid in front of my mother. Clothes have always meant something to me; they’re more than just pieces of artfully put together fabric.
As I write this, at 11:41 pm on the longest Monday I’ve had in the past 6 months, there is a pile of clothing, suitcases, travel wallets and my passport somewhere under all of it. A week ago, one of my many (many) cousins, invited me over to her place in Texas for a few days. As someone who loves to travel (especially if it’s for free), and who loves to day-drink with her cousin, I knew this was an offer I couldn’t refuse. I’ve spent the last 5 days mentally planning every possible outfit change for the 3 day trip, every possible photo-op, and every possible way to avoid paying overweight (what?! I’m not a light packer!)
What does all this have to do with memories and clothing? Well, nothing… and everything. As I started packing, I remembered this outfit I saw one of my favorite Mexican bloggers wear. When I realized I have the exact same pieces, in different colors, I knew it was an outfit I wanted to pack (something you should probably know about me, I love dressing up when I travel… even more so than on a daily basis). I pulled out the dress, the jeans and the shoes; I tried it on and loved it, so I took it off and put it all back. I’m not sure I’m ready to wear it again. Now I’m back to square one: no outfit ideas and not enough time to figure it out.
Little back dresses are supposed to be the go-to staple of a woman’s wardrobe. The ultimate empowering, chic and timeless piece in out closets. The truth is, mine is a bit of a mix of good, bad and undecided. Last time I wore this dress, I was in a different place. Not happier, just, different. I was with someone else, trying to figure out if a future together was a viable option. It’s a dress that reeks of heartbreak, even if said heartbreak occurred in my very happy place. It is also a dress that reminds me how brave I am. How I had the courage to try, and had the same courage to keep trying different things ever since.
As silly as it may sound, tying the black wrap dress around my body, even just as an outfit trial, made me feel weird. While I do love it, I don’t think I’m ready to listen to that song -or wear the dress- and relive that moment. The thing is, though, I should want to make new memories with it, right? I should want to move on and let got of the negative feelings that dress holds, because I really, truly love it. And honestly, it makes me look damn hot, too. So, how do you untie a memory from a song? Or, in this case, from a piece of clothing? Does it just happen naturally, with time? Or do I have to force myself to rewrite the memories, just like people used to record new mixtapes over old cassettes?
Nope, not even after this (very) cathartic writing session (which I’m sure I’ll regret a bit tomorrow morning, even after 3 cups of coffee) I still don’t know what the right answer is. Like I said, it may sound silly, “just wear the damn dress”, right? It sounds trivial, compared to my other much bigger problems, or the actual important stuff going on around the world. Well, in a way, wearing it again, means facing my fear. One that I’m not entirely sure I’m ready to face yet. The dress is both a reminder of the things that went wrong in the past, but also a reminder that I had the courage to try new things. I’m not yet sure which one outweighs which, but at least for now, the black wrap dress remains having in my closet.
I guess it’s back to packing for me…
Xo,
C.