Clothes do wear out. As I stitched, I tried to remember all the things I have worn out. Sadly, in my nearly fifty years, I haven't worn out that many items. I've usually found things unwearable because I've grown too big for them. But I have worn out a few cherished items. The first was a black wool coat I'd bought while in high school. It was my first really big purchase. I went on the bus downtown with the necessary money, and found a good one on sale. In the store's light, I thought it was navy. But the sunlight revealed black. When the lining became shredded, I relined it. But eventually, the elbows wore too thin. I remember I did take it with me to Arizona in 1987, nearly fifteen years after I'd bought it, I couldn't leave it behind. I'd had too much history with it. But not too long afterwards, I did reluctantly place it into a trash receptacle. It felt like a burial.

And then there was two blouses and a skirt I'd bought shortly after moving to Arizona. I remember I got them all at Lane Bryant, size 14/16. The skirt was a perfect honey brown twill, 'trouser' style zipper. I loved that thing. I wore it until its pleats about tore, and the backside was (my gramma used to call such 'rump-sprung'. Well, actually, to be more precise, she'd say "Aunt Cora used to call such 'rump-sprung'")...

...I _had_ to give it up. The two blouses, both seersucker, failed not too long after. One was honey brown and ivory checks, perfect for my coloring. I wore it when Laura, a friend of ours named Felicia and I went to the Tucson zoo: