A couple of housekeeping things before we get started today:

  1. My fingers hurt from typing out One Year to a Clean Closet every damned day, so from now on I’ll be using the extremely catchy acrynym OYTACC, or “oy-tac” as I like to call it. You know, as in “Oy, this project is going to give me a heart attack.” Like that.
  2. Want to know what I love more than shopping? Comments. Are you out there, reading this blog? I think you are because you come up to me in Trader Joe’s and at the gym and at my kids’ schools to tell me you are. You stop my husband on the street and offer him your sympathy. You email me and ask me to send you stuff I’m getting rid of (and I do!). Comments are like oranges: even when they’re pithy, they’re pretty awesome. (I just made that up. [Mic drop.])
  3. Want to know what I love more than comments? Sharing. Sharing is technically better than wine because it’s free and it isn’t even fattening. If every one of you shared this blog with just one friend, there would be at least twice as many people reading it as there are now! Yeah, I used to tutor math.

    Sharing is caring, and also sometimes it’s sort of gross.

Anyway, as someone who frequently refers to her disdain for the color green but is also admittedly a little whacked, you won’t be surprised to learn that I have a pretty bottomless supply of grass-colored clothes in my closet. You’ve seen hats and jeans and dresses and this godawful thing, but I realized this morning I hadn’t even thrown a single skirt into the mix.

Skirt… or doily? You decide.

I swear it’s a skirt and not a table doily or a throw pillow minus the stuffing, although I can see where you might get those ideas. Although to be honest, I do like this apple-green shade. And the crewel-work is sort of festive and fun.

But (brace yourself for a shock, peeps) I don’t wear it.

Why, you ask? (You know you did.)

It’s not quite as short as the Harper Valley PTA skirt, but it’s edging in that direction. Also it’s got this weird, skinny grosgrain waistband that’s a) tight, b) makes me look like a sausage, and c) does the unthinkable (you know, touch my bellybutton). For all of these reasons and probably more I’m forgetting because I’m old, it never makes it into the rotation.

Let me have it, fashionista friends. I can take it.


PS Doily is another word you don’t hear much anymore! If you’re a young person and I just taught you something, you’re very welcome. Now push your hair out of your eyes so we can see your pretty face.