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At the end of all things is the beginning of another. Like black and white, yin and yang, the beginning and end pairing is bound together in time and space. Like matter's spacial boundaries, time's beginning and end appear to be discreet only due to our inability to recognize their seamless nature.
As a psychologist, the temporal beginnings and ends that I find most fascinating are developmental in course. From child to teen, teen to adult, and so on and so forth, facilitating life's transitions have become an integral part of my work. Within these periods hearts are broken, jobs are lost, babies are born, and dreams are realized.
After a career full of witnessing life's beginnings and endings, I now had to work on my own. Leaving my job, home, and family. Giving up the city for the country, large spaces for small spaces, name given to name taken, familiar to new, and single to married.
Sitting in my parents' basement amongst my stored belongings, I had less than a month to sift through my stuff, leaving the extraneous and taking the necessary. This process amplified the beginning and end process that lay before me. The history, nostalgia, and memories attached to my buried treasures were brought up like silt in churning water.
My examination of these items led to emotional conclusions, new discoveries, answered questions, self-reflections, and future considerations. It was in between the space of the beginning and end where my past and present met.
The sorting process concluded at the entrance of my closet. Anyone who says clothing is frivolous has clearly never taken the time to look through her wardrobe. There I found college tank tops, grad school cable crewnecks, bar hopping stilettos, interview suits, Florida cover-ups, first date outfits, running gear, and soon-to-be-worn-wedding dress.
Where I had been and where I was going, who I was and who I was to be were all woven in the fabric. Forget video collections, photo albums, or journals, the history I was leaving behind and the new one I was making was laying in piles on my floor. Saying goodbye to the old and welcoming the new was marked with the shutting of my closet door.
Have you ever constructed a timeline for a history or literature class in grade school? The one that is crammed onto a poster board revealing the history of the Globe Theater or the major battles of the Civil War? These timelines are made to mark and connect points in time to create a cohesive history. When I look into my closet or a client's closet, this is what I see, a timeline of a life.
Our clothing over a course of a lifetime can become the embodiment of flashbulb memories. Those memories, which are vivid recollections of an emotionally charged moment. Does clothing not also contain flashbulb memories? My black argyle sweater wore in the car when my boyfriend of five years broke up with me. My red dress from my first prom. My pinstripe suit I wore to my first job interview. My fuchsia silk pleated shift I wore when I met my husband. My cream pant, olive green top, and brown woven leather accessories I wore to meet Tim Gunn at a book signing in Newport Beach! My button down, skinny jeans, and brown riding boots the last time I saw my grandfather. All just meaningless slices of fabric pieced together... but so much more.
In the wake of Oprah's last show, I was struck by the importance her clothing had in her viewers' processing of her ending her program. First, she reviewed those items that held special significance in her life. Those flashbulb pieces that signaled memories related to her award shows, interviews, and moments of greatest confidence. Second, these pieces held meaning, which her viewers wanted to possess. They wanted a piece of her closet because they wanted a piece of Oprah and her experiences. I liken the desire to buy her the items from her closet cleanout to those who desire pieces of dirt from a homeland, petals from an important bouquet, or bone from a holy figure. To possess those objects is to become closer to the person and their greatness...is this not what is happening to Oprah's items as she says "good-bye" to her viewers? Is this desire to acquire her clothing not evidence that clothing embodies the energy, story, and power of the wearer? Do these items not serve as relics to remind us of the one who once wore it? Do these pieces not hold the story of a life, a history? And you say "they are just clothes!"
