The Closet T-Shirt Elimination Game

After age 60, more should be going out of our closets than coming in. We can start with getting rid of the sentimental  T-shirts that we’ve collected over the years and that take up an inordinate amount of space.  I’m guessing my husband has about 300 of these advertising his college, his favorite football and baseball teams and the many vacations he’s taken—his life in cotton. Some are neatly folded in closet cubbies, others are stuffed randomly in drawers.  Every now and then, I devote a Sunday to “closet elimination.”  He agrees to throw some shirts out. I take a pile of about 30 and hold up each one for his decision. “This is at least 20 years old and has a hole and a spot I can’t get out,” I say.  His answer: “I love that.  It’s my favorite T-shirt.”  By the end of an hour, I’m lucky to have eliminated even one; it’s a losing battle.

One time, while he was on a business trip, I decided to take matters into my own hands and just get rid of some of the clothes that were too old or too ratty to wear anymore. I took two large trash bags and filled them with shirts, jackets and pants—things he didn’t need and I didn’t think he would miss. I figured if I left them in a trash bag for three months and he didn’t ask for them, I could take them to Goodwill. In the meantime, while my cleaning lady was helping me with this project, I gave her a few shirts as a bonus. The problem came when my husband returned home from his trip and the cleaning lady came over wearing one of his shirts. “Hey, I have the same shirt!” he said. She smiled knowingly, and I thought Not anymore! But based on that, I thought it was more honest to include him in the process from then on.

I’m also at fault here because I buy him “funny” T-shirts that say things like, “Yes, Dear,” and I also have made shirts for birthdays and other special occasions. Do we throw these out if they are special? I myself have a few T-shirts but never wear them because I have narrow shoulders; they just don’t work for me and honestly, I d­on’t want to invite people to stare at my chest while reading them—like a bumper sticker for your clothing. I just keep them; I’m not sure why.  But come on, we don’t get our identity from our T-shirts.  At least we shouldn’t.  And who cares that we were in Berlin in 2008 or “Walked on The Great Wall of China” in 2006.  Must we advertise our thoughts and vacations?  Isn’t it enough we have the memories and the photos to prove we were there?  Let’s get to work and toss some of these fabric momentos.