As many of you know, and so many of you know because I was blessed and colored lucky enough to be able to see so many of you on my recent trip back to the States (more on that later), the Frenchman and I are waiting patiently – ever, oh so patiently, to move into a new house. The house is an old country farmhouse that was gutted and added onto and apparently, for reasons that shall remain a mystery to me, never really finished. There is no kitchen.
But, eh, kitchens can be created. The more head-scratching of issues that we will have when we finally get to move in (oh, please let it be soon) is what to do with the oddly placed trap door that leads to the wine cellar and where to put the Frenchman’s ever-so-large collection of miscellaneous clothing items from the 80s.
It seems that he has some sort of emotional attachment or as he puts it ‘good memories’ associated with clothing. I would much rather just take and hold onto a photo, but to each their own. My method of madness is to toss out an item once a new item has come into the closet. Drastic in some ways, I realize, but it keeps the wardrobe fresh.
When we arrived in France from Mauritius, each of us had just two suitcases of clothing to get us through the next few months that it would take to find a house. And it was upon opening the closets in his old room to store our stuff that I discovered that the 80s were alive, well and apparently keeping a VERY groovy beat.
I began the process of packing it all into boxes that would ultimately need to get sorted out at a later date. Towards the end of folding and stuffing, I came across these at-one-point-but-that-point-has-come-and-long-gone awesome moonboots. The Frenchman was extremely insistent that nothing, and I mean nothing, was to be tossed out, sold or set on fire (oh, how I wished).
I took a photo and sent it to him at work with the following, “Really? You are going to wear these again?” He called me laughing and claiming that he was unaware that these particular boots were still in the closet. Uh-huh. And so, these bad boys will not be making it over to the new home.
And in case anyone out there is wondering if it’s possible to live with your Frenchman’s parents with only two suitcases of possessions for over six months (not that anyone is counting) – yes. Yes, it’s possible. This new change of seasons may cause some creative dressing to be done on my part. Maybe it’s time to crack open a box full of 80s.