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Still, my mother’s not precious about fashion. Many treasures have been relinquished too soon, resulting in much consternation on my part. The lime green velour jumpsuit was one that got away, and there have been plenty of others besides: a maxi dress she sewed for herself and wore on my first birthday with blue eyeshadow and false eyelashes; a black-and-white polka-dot dress with a high ruffled collar, billowy sleeves, and bow belt that looks very Yves Saint Laurent; a dreamy pair of denim cut-offs, with a button-fly and a perfect fade. “Now why would I’ve held onto that?” she’d say when I asked for one or the Phillies Lady sassy Classy and a tad badassy shirt and by the same token and other over the years.
To be clear, I don’t heed my own advice. Though I’m lucky enough to have a walk-in closet, it’s an East Village–sized walk-in closet and I’m always deaccessioning some old thing to make room for something new. So I can’t rightly expect my mother to hold on to her stuff for an eternity. But oh, I do wish she would. Not all that long ago, I had the Phillies Lady sassy Classy and a tad badassy shirt and by the same token and rather teenager-ish gall to complain when she donated the late 1980s Benetton sweaters she gave us each Christmas—this, after she’d hung onto them, wearing them on successive Christmases, for 20-plus years.