I have strong emotional attachments to t-shirts that I cannot wear. Whether its a well-loved (read: stained) former formal shirt or one of my dozens of comfortable-but-too-big Sun shirts, I cannot seem to get rid of my legions of memories-in-cotton/polyester-mix.
This semester I am trying an experiment in dressing nicely (read: comfortable, fitted, and aspirationally elegant). I have found (unfortunately) that my classmates and professors are treat me as if I have more authority when I am dressed up.
This is depressing; but while the experiment provides positive results I can keep saddling up for class. Now what to do with piles of t-shirts I love that I am no longer willing to wear?
The solution comes from another odd problem: I am now the proud owner of 5 pillows, several of which the house acquired for me (in its nearly sentient collection habits) in my absence from previous subletters.
I am only the proud owner of two pillow cases.
Unpacking my boxes of clothes I stored in Pittsburgh since last December, I an intuitive leap–and turned my six favorite large t-shirts into de facto pillow cases. They showcase t-shirts from my high school choir, freshman orientation, middle school learning fair, a quirky Shakespeare event, and of course, a Sun memory.
What a great context to lie on while enraptured in my new book.