I have a lot of things. Shirts I’ve had since high school, sneakers I bought yesterday. Collectable handbags in shades of blue and green and grey and brown, three Dyson air wraps (I know), enough cosmetics to fill a suitcase.
I am moving on to a boat with just under 1000 square feet of indoor living space. I both have far too many things (that are not compatible with life on the sea) and a long list of items I need to purchase to live aboard. Many of my clothes and shoes are packed away, I’ve created registries at various stores to keep track of which cups and plates and salad bowls and pots and pans I’ve selected for living on a catamaran.
I am planning on black dishes and green linens and colorful glassware, a modern, tropical vibe. Packing up my stuff to move was very emotional for me, I avoided going through my closet until days after I was originally supposed to leave my house in Idaho for a long road trip. I am, of course, excited about everything in the future, but I also miss the vaguely glamorous New Yorker I used to be. Will I ever be a woman who wears gold Gucci pants again? I wish I didn’t care, but I do.
I realize that very few people want to read an essay about a rich white lady who might not have- in the future- the reason or means to buy $3,500 dresses. No one needs limited edition Hermes bags or Reem Acra gala gowns. But our things are also an expression of who we are. Personal style is communication. If I am wearing different clothes, living in a different place and in a different way, am I a different person?