I have a ton of clothes. Silk tank tops I bought in Italy. Jeans from Paris. Clothes I’ve had since high school and college. My weight has fluctuated through the years, but in the end, I can always get back into those tight bell bottoms I bought at the Wasteland my freshman year at Cal.
Luckily, I’ve got a walk-in closet at our apartment and a basement storage room at my condo. But lately, I’ve realized I don’t wear a lot of the items. I should probably go ahead and get rid of them. They’ve been clogging my sense of fashion.
I filled four large trash bags with skirts, tops, high heels, wedges, coats, sweaters, dresses. You name it. I reserved one of those trash bags for brand name items that I figured I could sell at a high-end consignment boutique. My favorite one is Goodbyes, but I’ve been burned by them in the past because they require a minimum of three items. The last time, I had two so that ended up being a waste of time. Cris on Polk Street went through my stuff and selected a whopping six items. Hooray! If they sell at the prices I listed, I’ll have about $150.
Everything else I brought to Crossroads on Fillmore. I have no idea what they took or how many items. I was reading a book while they went through all my crap. “Catherine? Catherine? Your grand total is $56 cash.”
Keep in mind, they went through four full garbage bags of shit. I guess that’s better than nothing.