Summer Wear

by Beth Alexander Walsh

At the beginning of the summer I did something I haven’t done in years. I bought a pair of white pants. Capri length to be exact. They were on the JC Penny website on sale and I had a coupon. They were just begging to be purchased. For the longest time I shied away from the white. Darker colors could hide a multitude of ample sins that have I have collected over the past two decades. There was also the risk of white. I would be a walking bullseye for BBQ sauce, red wine or any other stain that would become impenetrable by the hardiest of laundry detergents.

The first time I wore the white, my dog jumped up and placed two paws on my thigh in hopes of me sharing my scrambled eggs. She had just been outside and the outside was on my pants in the shape of paw prints. The pants had been on less than thirty minutes. As I changed into the darker pair of pants, I made rules about the white. I would wear on special occasions. I would put them on right before the special occasion. I would take them off as soon as the special occasion was over.

The first time I actually made it out of the house with the white pants was at a family get together. I got compliments on my attire, and I managed not to spill anything on myself during the entire gathering. I was loving my new white pants. As soon as they came out of the laundry, I would think about when I could wear them next. They went on several dinners, a few music venues, a night out with friends and of course vacation. Then, in a blink of an eye, it was Labor Day weekend. I wore the pants to an outdoor bar with my husband and our pup. She of course put her paws on my thigh adding a grey streak of parking lot gravel on the bright white material. My pants were having a déjà vu moment. I was unperturbed by the assault because I knew that this was the last outing for “white” and then I got sad. Not only was summer over but on reflection I surmised that I had worn my pants less than a dozen times over the season. They had spent more time hanging in my closet waiting for a special occasion than on my body.

Why do we wait to use items we purport to love?

Both my mother and mother-in-law had new towels in a closet for when company might be staying. They were never used. Not once. My mother’s towels got passed to my nieces and nephews going off to college. I wish she could have enjoyed them herself.

I am making some new rules.

Use the towels. Wear the good jewelry. Eat off the nice plates. Wear the damn white pants.