The Slice

The case for throwing out ruined clothes

There is a danger to consigning a defective garment to the magical land of potential weekend wear.

The danger is that you might forget that the item of apparel has been compromised. You might, in fact, wear it to work by mistake.

Which is precisely what I did today.

The item in question is a loose summer shirt that does not tuck in. A few weeks ago, it was noted at home that this shirt has a long, horizontal rip in the back.

It's quite a gash. Looks like I was involved in sword play or rode my bike too near a disgruntled tiger.

At the time this tear was discovered I theorized that I still might wear this shirt on weekends. That's what I almost always say about a garment that has been nominated for disposal. "I could probably wear that on Saturdays."

The thing is, I have lots of casual clothes from which to choose. So I seldom, if ever, elect to don stuff that has been specifcally relegated to unsuitable-for-work status. At least not on purpose.

But some fantasy notion of future weekend activities -- working under the car? -- perpetuates the insane idea that it makes sense to hang on to damaged apparel.

We've donated a lot of clothing over the years. I have no problem with that.

But if a sweatshirt or pair of jeans is seriously nicked up in some way, I must believe the item has character.

And maybe I'll wear it some weekend.

Or today, as the case may be.  

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The online home for Paul Turner's musings and interactions with disciples of The Slice.




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