A chill settled in last night and has lingered all day, prompting me to start the Seasonal Closet Turnover process. A lot of laundry and digging and sorting as I decide what clothes need to just go to Goodwill already because I have not worn them in six years anyway, but I keep them because they are pretty (not because I am a batty old hoarder).
I don't know how people from California or any other temperate climate do it, keeping their entire wardrobes accessible all year round, because I just don't have the closet space to pull it off. Which maybe explains why so many women are more obsessed with walk-ins than I am. In any case, I love this ritual, and it has definitely become a ritual. I love unearthing jackets and boots and sweaters that I forgot I had, and stashing skirts and sundresses away to make room for them. Trading out the linen for the wool. Pulling out the heavy, thick blankets for the bed. There's something about the organizing and preparation process that feels comforting and right, like gearing up for hibernation. Like storing up the harvest before a long winter.
All this scenario is missing is some hot (spiced? spiked?) cider, and today would be perfect.
p.s. My lovely stepmom (yes, those two words can coexist, much like "lovely mother-in-law") found this beauty for us at the weirdest garage sale I have ever seen, and I am pretty stoked about it.
I have never upholstered a thing in my life, but I'm willing to give it a shot. The sheer pressure of picking the perfect fabric just might kill me, though.