just airing out some clean laundry here

I don't know why it's bothering me so much right now, but for whatever reason I can't get over the fact that I may have ruined one of my garments: the really cool pants I bought in Tokyo.

It's a combination of factors that are causing this bothered state I'm in right now. They include:

-My new heightened interest in taking care of my wardrobe
-My attachment to a pair of pants that fit me like no others have before
-The fact that it is extremely difficult to find clothes my size in this country
-The fact that it is moderately difficult to find clothes my size in any country

The damage has been done.


Having already worn them on several different occasions I decided to throw my pants (corduroy's) into the washer a few weeks ago. I did this without any regard for the washing conditions that the pants required. After taking them out of the washer I hang dried them outside. About a day later I brought them in and hung them in my closet. At the time I didn't notice any wrinkles or blemishes. I was content.


Tonight came time to do laundry for the week. I was wearing another stylish pair of pants that I bought in the big city (Tokyo) and was just about to toss them in with my load of clothes: the only load that I usually do.

Out of mere curiosity I decided to check the washing instructions located on the inside linen of the pants. To my surprise the washing directions read, "Hand Wash 30ºC." It hadn't occurred to me before that some of the clothes that I considered to be "everyday" required special care.  To me "special care" was reserved only for "special occasions." I rarely dry clean my clothes: only suits and trousers. The very idea of dry cleaning or taking special care of my ordinary clothes was foreign. "Who has time for that?" I thought.

Upon reading the specific directions from the pants I dropped them to the floor with a gasp. I hastily tried to remember how I had treated my other stylish pants a few weeks ago but my memory circuits were firing blanks.

I ran to the closet – which was half a foot away – and violently slid open the closet door. It smashed against the wall as I slid mostly shirts to the side in search of my go-to pants: my FF9C42 corduroys.

When I located them I was disappointed; however, it was mostly in myself though.

The wrinkles were obvious. I wanted to make those wrinkles go away but the material of the pants was not to be mishandled by a home economics rookie like myself. The pants were wearable but they screamed "I don't know how to take care of myself." It was a low point in my life and I didn't know where to turn. The time was 00:05 and it wouldn't be until 9:00 the next day when the nearby dry-cleaners would open. But I wanted to solve the problem as soon as humanly possible.

Like someone who tries to self-diagnose themselves I decided to take matters into my own hands by searching the internet for answers. I searched and learned about methods for dry cleaning all different types of clothes and fabrics. I watched videos on how dry cleaning works and methods for cleaning special types of clothes at home. I got sucked into watching some infomercials about special at home dry cleaning products that seemed too good to be true. In the end I still felt empty inside.

Although my go-to pants were clean their appearance was unsatisfactory to me. I wanted to wear them again like I had worn them those four to five times before I carelessly tossed them in with the rest of my clothes. They were special to me but I didn't treat them that way.

The thought of losing something that I felt so much attachment to scared me. Perhaps the scarier side of this was the reality that I was placing so many feelings and emotions into a material item like pants.

I feel like there are many lessons to be learned from writing this. For one, my family and close friends are special to me so I'm going to try and treat them like that from now on.

~Anthans