Hard to Discard : When You Just Can’t Let Go of That Loud Sport Coat, Feather Boa . . .
T he closet is cluttered. T-shirts drip from the shelves. Shoes bump each other for space. A favorite three-piece suit is permanently pressed, thanks to the squeeze on either side.
Time to toss. ... or is it?
With a little weight loss that fabulous European sport jacket might fit again. And that scruffy Hawaiian T? Maybe the pattern is faded, but the memories aren’t.
If this sounds familiar, you could be in the grips of the “closet dilemma.”
It stands to reason that people with small closets and people on the move must purge. Younger people and people who like to shop--and can afford it--often part with their clothing faster than others. And people who aren’t too sentimental about their possessions have fewer problems with the process. But almost everyone finds it hard to discard.
Take the shopping-oriented show-biz executive who needed professional help to weed out his wardrobe. He invited George Grimball, menswear manager of Fred Segal on Melrose Avenue, over to watch a sporting event and attack his closet.
“Just because a man is a successful agent or producer doesn’t mean he knows about clothes. That’s not his field. That’s my field,” says Grimball, who usually doesn’t do closets, but made an exception because the executive is a customer and friend.
Even with Grimball at his side, the man had some qualms. There was a Jhane Barnes multicolored sport coat “that dated back to 1978 or 1979,” Grimball says. “He hated to part with it. He almost cried.” But in the end “he gave away about $3,000 or $4,000 worth of clothing. And he thanked me.”
Janet Snyder, owner of Jean’s Stars’ Apparel, a resale store in Sherman Oaks, makes a living out of other people’s closets. “Some women call me once a year, exactly the same time as last year. Like clockwork,” Snyder says.
She makes house calls to good clients. “It’s always nice to have a second opinion,” she says. “Even some women on the Best-Dressed List aren’t always certain about what to give away.”
Snyder admits she, too, could use some help: “I have a terrible need to clean out my closet, and I need a friend to say, ‘You don’t need that, Janet.’ ”
Maybe she doesn’t need her short, lace wedding dress. But it stays. And this year, it may even be worn. “I’m determined I’m going to squeeze my body into it for my 25th anniversary in December,” Snyder says.
Memories stay in Holly Brown’s closet for a similar reason.
“My husband and I disagree,” says the Chatsworth homemaker. “He thinks I’m a pack rat and I think he throws stuff out too easily. But I like to have things if we’re invited to a costume party. And there’s a certain amount of sentimental attachment.”
Brown still wears a wool shawl and a silk jacket her grandmother gave her 25 years ago. But like many people, she can part with a trendy purchase quickly.
“I’ll get home and wonder, ‘Why did I buy it?’ I used to know exactly what I wanted in my 20s. I think the problem is, in my 40s, I still feel 25 inside, but the outside is changing.”
Even her daughters, ages 12 and 10, “have always had favorites that were hard for them to let go of,” Brown says. “My 10-year-old had a Size 3 bathrobe she was wearing until she was 6. We just laughed about it one day.” And out it went.
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Experts don’t have any hard facts on how long people keep their clothing. Even people in the same business have different views. June Van Dyke, manager of Cinema Glamour Shop, a Los Angeles charity shop owned by the Motion Picture and Television Fund, finds the rich and famous and their clothing are quickly parted--because they “make so many personal appearances they have to have new things.” But Denise Noel, divisional director of the American Cancer Society’s Discovery Shops, says donations to her organization indicate that “wealth doesn’t necessarily mean generosity. Working men and women are definitely into fashion and they turn their clothing over more rapidly (than the wealthy).”
Of course, many people can’t afford to part with their clothing. They keep it as long as they can. And Carl Steidtmann, chief economist of Management Horizons, a division of Price Waterhouse, observes that, during the current recession, “men, more than women, are delaying purchases of work-related clothing. You can see that very clearly in how poorly men’s suits have sold.”
Sometimes the exceptional quality of a garment, combined with memories, keeps it operable for years. Sally Stewart, a Pasadena marketing consultant, still wears a “knock ‘em dead” feather boa she received 27 years ago from a date--and the red silk hostess skirt her mother bought her.
“I’ve worn it every Christmas since I was 13,” Stewart, 50, says. “It came with a pink satin blouse. Since then, I’ve worn it with lace blouses, big organdy blouses and strapless glittery tops. I’ve always told my sister: ‘If I drop dead at Christmas time, be sure you bury me in my red silk skirt.’ ”
Carmen Watkins, a Los Angeles bookkeeper, keeps her clothes “forever, because styles come and go.” Shoes are her passion and she has some that are 20 years old but never worn.
Her daughter, Marie Turner, 32, a customer service representative, shares her mother’s love of shoes. “I think I had over 100 pairs, the last time I looked,” Turner says.
And they stay in her closet even if she doesn’t wear them. “I think it has to do with when I was little. I had every color imaginable. And it helps me when I’m depressed. Instead of eating, I buy shoes.”
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But Linda Leeds, a Los Angeles environmental activist, refuses to walk in her mother’s footsteps.
While her mother was “always impeccable, perfectly dressed,” Leeds doesn’t enjoy shopping. One of her favorite garments is an Armani jacket that belonged to her father. Another is an Air Force jumpsuit she bought almost 10 years ago in a surplus store. “I even wear it with pearls,” Leeds says.
“Maybe it’s a childhood thing of being forced to have my hair in ringlets and wear dresses that were custom made. I repudiated it with a vengeance.”
“We exchange clothes in our family,” says Leeds, noting that her 11-year-old daughter’s wardrobe includes pajama bottoms inherited from her grandfather.
Such a keepsake attitude appeals to Michael Anderson, the English-born co-owner and co-designer of Clacton & Frinton, a menswear store on La Cienega Boulevard.
Recently, the owner of a 10-year-old Harris tweed jacket brought it back for a new lining. And another customer requested a new collar for his 8-year-old linen jacket.
“From (our) financial point of view, it’s not a smart move,” Anderson admits. “But it’s a definite decision to make clothes that will acquire a bit of the owner.”
So how long do people who love their clothes keep them? Sometimes forever.
Designer Mark Eisen says he keeps his cashmere sweaters “until they’re nearly broken into pieces.” Sport jackets and pea coats with shoulders “so big they didn’t look modern anymore” are gone from his closet. But he will never part with a sport coat he bought in Scandinavia eight years ago.
“The fabric will always be an inspiration to me,” Eisen says.
Designer Carole Little converted two bedrooms into closets for her inspirations.
“I have stuff that goes back to the time we started the business 17 years ago,” she says. “I have antique clothing. I probably have things left over from college. I don’t part with anything if it looks as if it will come in handy someday.”
Penny Haberman, director of the Fifth Avenue Club, Saks Fifth Avenue’s personal shopping service, has her own collection of period pieces. “I’ve kept something from every decade on purpose. I’ve always loved fashion,” says Haberman, who also keeps, and wears, a 25- year-old Hattie Carnegie hat she inherited from her father, who worked with Carnegie, the famous New York designer.
And then there is Marjorie Fasman, an artist and community activist. She keeps clothing and accessories “until they stop looking beautiful. But some of them never do.”
She not only kept her daughter’s wedding gown, she also wears it. The dress, with its embroidered doves and swags of ribbon, “was hanging in my closet for three years,” Fasman says, “and I thought: ‘This thing should get out and have some fun.’ I had it remade a little bit for me and wore it to a fancy party.”
