I threw away a bunch of clothes this weekend. With trash bag in hand, I stuffed each and every one of them inside, blind to the colors, texture, smell, and sentiments attached to them. My closet was flooded with clothes that seemed to multiply over the years, some of which were acquired from fashion shows I did when I first moved to the city, t-shirts stolen (one given) from ex-girlfriends, a couture dress that I purchased with my first real paycheck, a tank top that I used to wear like forty times in one month because I loved it so much. So in my current liberated state, I was immediately repulsed by the number of years and sentiments attached to some of the clothes I had. In my mind, I desired to be detached from those years. I made up my mind to get rid of them, and just like that I saw myself moving quickly as I tossed the years in the bag, one by one, mechanically moving like a robot. As I did this, I felt a physical weight of lift from my shoulders. No longer am I the woman I was four years ago, five years ago, six years ago. By the time I was done, I was free. Yes, it was certainly easier to move around my bedroom, but it was also easier to make space for the new. Isn’t that what life is all about—doing away with the old in order to accommodate the new?
I was faced with this test again when a sales representative at Carol’s Daughter flagship store in Brooklyn told me that they were discontinuing my favorite scent. If you know me well, you’d know what that scent is. I’ve been wearing it every day for the past four years. It became my signature scent, inciting my coworkers, family, friends, and partner alike to sniff my presence. So when the sales representative, a Boris Cudjoe look-a-like (I’m not kidding) who knew me well because of my loyalty to Miss Carol’s Daughter broke the news, he was very gentle. At first I wasn’t sure why he was suggesting that I try other scents. “But why do I need other scents, J?” I asked him when he gave me one too many scents to try. I saw him let out a weary sigh and held his texturized head full of wavy coils down as if he were struggling with something that he needed to tell me. “What’s wrong?” I asked, growing fearful. He looked like he was going to break some bad news about my mother or something. “We’ll be discontinuing your scent soon,” he finally said. I looked at him in shock, the past four years of my life flashing across his now sympathetic, handsome face. The workers there all knew that was MY scent at Carol’s Daughter. How could they betray me? I thought. “It wasn’t making sales like the others,” the sales rep said as if he read my thoughts and needed to make an excuse. “Oh,” I simply replied. How could they lack sales when they have me? I thought. But then again, one person is not enough. I thought about ways that I could’ve purchased my scent in bulk before it goes out of stock, but something told me that maybe this was a sign. It was time. I needed to let go of the old and try something new. After all, this is a new chapter. “Let me see that other one then,” I told him.
An acquaintance of mine, YK, in her blog, wrote that she’s practicing letting go by giving away one possession each day of the year. I agree with her that letting go is definitely the most liberating feeling one could ever experience. I won’t go as far as to give something away each day like YK, but letting go is something that I found myself doing this weekend. It’s not that I resent where I came from, neither do I resent my journey and the things I’ve picked up along the way; it’s just that possessions, like skin, should shed sometimes in order for new growth to occur.
Nicole © 2010
0 comments:
Post a Comment