Every organizing book you’ll ever read stresses the importance of letting things go. Memories are in our mind, not in our stuff. And maybe that’s true for most items, but we all have something we hold onto for sentiment: mix tapes from old boyfriends, countless photographs, favorite t-shirts, mom’s old crock pot. Ok, I’ll admit, I have all of those, but I know they’ll eventually end up lost in the back of the closet, or in a Goodwill pile and that’s all right…except for my photo albums…those aren’t going anywhere.
Every month ChicagoNow writers are faced with a challenge: one hour to write about a specific topic. Required, no. But a fun challenge none the less (remember There’s No Way I’m Eating That and Shirley You Can’t be Serious?). This morning’s topic…”Write about an inanimate object you have a strong emotional attachment to”
I have four.
Instead of feeling lost without them, though, I find strength in them. Probably a little f’d up, I’m sure. We’re supposed to be all #girlboss and find our strength from within, but what’s wrong with channeling a little of our kick-assery self through accessories?!
Mostly everyday as a teenager I imagined living the starving artist lifestyle in NYC: I’d walk to the markets from my hardwood floor loft during the day and dance on Broadway at night. When the opportunity presented itself in college though, I ultimately chose what was comfortable (a story for another time).
I never did live in the city: New York, Chicago, Paris, or otherwise. But, the days I’ve spent solo navigating the Metro, possibly making eye contact with Bradley Cooper on Bleeker (another story for another time), or an afternoon lunch in Wicker Park, I hold like an adventure-badge close to my heart.
I’ve done things! I’ve been places!
I don’t have a power suit. Hell, I don’t even own anything resembling a business suit.
Instead I have power boots.
I am a jeans and t-shirt girl.
Caterpillar, square-toe, harness buckle. #girlboss boots. Take on the world boots.
They’ve been resoled and restitched numerous times. I can’t- I won’t- let them wear out…because then the shit life throws at us has won.
I can recite my “pretend you’re good at it” mantra a million times; in these boots, though, I know I’m good at it.
My fourth item is a key. I don’t know what it belongs to- but that’s a story I’m never going to tell.
What are you holding on to and why?
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