Giving Back

Sometimes acting sustainably requires sacrifice.

Like, for instance, throwing oneself upon the altar of the local consignment shop priestess. No pants crotch, collar ring, or armpit hole goes unscrutinized. Cheap label frocks elicit a dismissive turn of the head, regardless of cuteness. Nostrils flare at $250 jeans with even slightly frayed hems. And don't even THINK about trying to sell your shoes. None of them are good enough. Unless either a) they have never, EVER been worn or b) your feet are made from an impermeable membrane.

Thankfully, there are things you can do to preempt public sartorial mortification. I suggest intense self-scrutiny of garments in the privacy of your own well-lit laundromat, selling with the seasons (no wool in March, no linen in September), and making sure all garments were manufactured in this decade.

I was 10 for 15 yesterday at Goodbye's, and yet I still feel like a dirty whore. (Currently soaking shirts 11-14 in OXO Brite to try for a resell.)

When I feel really rejected, I take solace in imagining how Courtney Love would fare.