Shop This, Buddy!

All it takes is a little bitty recession and the "frugal smuggers"
come out of their almost-woodlike panelling. Yes, Wall Street Bankers and their million dollar bonuses are enraging but the price-slashing, don't-spend-a-cent, who-needs-real-toiletpaper-anyway army is annoying. And annoyance sometimes trumps anger.

One of the favorite topics for the frugalistas is cutting back on clothing expenditures by "shopping your closet." By wading in and paring out the wrong numbers while pairing up the snazzy ones you forgot you had, suddenly your world will be filled with adorable, wearable, perfect-fitting new outfits without you spending a dime of your dwindling funds. Have you ever seen the people suggesting this? I mean, other than maybe Tim Gunn, who you know doesn't have anything but perfect clothing in his closet anyway, most of the writers suggesting this look like they haven't changed their muu-muus or plaid flannel shirts since 1969.

I'm not saying everyone should buy a new wardrobe every season--ok, I would if I thought we could all afford it--and I'm not denying that "shopping your closet" sounds like a potentially Indiana Jones moment of treasure hunting. But more likely, breaking through the piles of shoes on the floor will leave you feeling more like Geraldo Rivera after he broke into Capone's secret hideaway: nothing will be there.

Now, I'll let you in on the grungy secret: What my closet looks like. Not so bad, you say? I mean, other than the pile of unsorted jeans and sweats on the upper shelf? The half-crushed boot box on the floor? Most things do appear to be on hangers, after all, and there's actually a semblance of a shoe organizer. Trouble is, this is my closet when it looks pretty much its best. And much of that seeming organization gets cast to the winds when you look at the top of my dresser. There you go. Just pile everything there and the closet looks better. So do I have to "shop my dresser top" too?

Let's face it, my closet just isn't a very sexy store to shop in. In my defense, most of what's on the dresser is waiting to be washed but I'm still not likely to run to my closet door, peep in, and go "ooh, look at that adorable striped shirt! Who knew I had such marvelous taste--guess I'll skip the trip to Macy's where I couldn't possibly find something more appealing." (I did go to Macy's; kept the purchase down to a belt and a severely reduced pair of Ralph Lauren jeans. Tragic.)

As fashionable as being frugal--i.e. a cheapskate--is right now, I'm afraid I'll still be happier and feel more confident and stylish when I'm wearing something new. Isn't Spring what "new" is all about? I won't toss out that pile of unworn jeans or shirts, of course. Because don't we always hold out the hope that the too-small jeans will fit some day or the leopard-trim tee will look just amazing after we work out three days a week and have buff biceps? I'll keep my closet and no doubt wear the duds in it, (coincidence that this word means both articles of clothing and things that don't work?) but "shop" it? Nope. "Shopping" means escalators, sales clerks to bring the size I really need, and an excuse to stop at "Auntie Anne's Pretzels" when my treasure has been bagged.