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Thursday, May 20, 2010

I will never part with...

By Kathryn Grimes

After having worked as a Fashion Consultant for a major clothing store, and having had a lifelong love affair with clothes, I read your article on writing  a short story about a item of clothing that falls into the “I will never part with this” category, with interest. I know I am not a writer, but I immediately thought of the one item I own that I could never part with. 

Trivial as they seem and probably not considered at all when writing about your attachment to something you wear, my love is for a pair of socks. These are special socks!  This particular pair are black, thick (thicker than any I have ever owned), and warm.
My daughter and I both suffered from terribly cold feet (probably more circulation than weather related).  We were always looking for the perfect pair of socks, some we purchased were overly expensive and others just so cute you could not resist and you had to wear them over another pair for any relief from the cold.  These black socks however work magic, they were my daughters, and now they are mine. 
Some nights when the air is frigid and my feet like ice cubes, I go to my “house socks” drawer and though many pair are there, I reach for the black ones.  The fabric content must contain wool, for they are perfectly toasty and immediately make me feel comfy and warm.  They affect my whole well being, like slipping on a down robe over my body.  It is the socks? I can’t find another pair, anywhere!!! I look, constantly, in Department Stores, Specialty Shops, on line.  I can’t find them because I don’t really know what I am looking for, there is no label.  When I shop I need to touch and feel, and nothing feels like these. I have to ask myself is it because their thick and warm, and make me feel wonderful, or is it because they were my daughters?  Is it because of all the things she left me when she died two years ago, something I knew we had searched for together trying to find the perfect pair, that this was a quest we had shared. It was something we talked about and laughed about. It was our ” funny conversation” when she was so ill that nothing seemed funny and her smallest chuckles were music to my ears? Or, is it because when I am cold and put them on, a part of her is with me again? I imagine it is all of the above.

I just know that out of closets full of beautiful clothes, my favorite thing comes down to just a pair of socks. Her socks, now my socks, always our socks.

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