A new month and new clarity about what really matters

Just when you think things can’t get any worse, they do. After spending May fretting about staying healthy, the pending (now-confirmed) cancellation of camp and then watching our society implode before my very eyes, I can’t even fathom what June has in store. This new homebound normal has almost gotten so “normal” that it’s almost hard to remember what pre-pandemic life was like. What I wouldn’t give to have a laundry list of errands that I could do without a “COVID kit” of masks, gloves and hand sanitizer—as well as the joy involved with figuring out what to wear for a day of running around town. (This is not a “Woe is me,” “I miss my clothes/shoes/bags” post—so just stay with me.)

If the past few months have taught us anything, it’s what matters. In late March/early April when we were all panicking at some level, we learned food and basic home supplies (i.e. toilet paper) matter, so we put our efforts into trying to secure online deliveries. These early days also reinforced that family matters, as we all started spending more time together in the form of sit-down meals, non-digital games and family walks. And just when we started our 12th week of quarantine, the civil unrest due to the systemic racial injustice that has pervaded American society for centuries took centerstage.

So what else “matters” now? Black lives matter. Brown lives matter. White lives matter. Kids’ lives matter. ALL lives matter, whether the differences between us include skin color, sexual preference, cultural background or political leaning.

EDIT SINCE ORIGINAL POST: I know a lot of people are taking issue with “All Lives Matter,” but I decided against removing this from my original post because my heart believes this to be true. If not for what’s going on outside all of our front doors, I don’t think anyone would argue against the basic fact that “all lives matter.”

You know what doesn’t matter so much anymore? My closet. I obviously still go in there several times a day since every stitch of clothing I own lives in there—although I haven’t strayed too far beyond the built-in dresser and cabinet that house all of my “off-duty” essentials (i.e. non-hanging clothes). Those 10 pairs of 100mm pumps, 10+ pairs of boots, 10 pairs of loafers, 3 pairs of designer “beach” sandals, 10 pairs of ballet flats and 25+ handbags… Will I ever wear them again, or even more importantly, how often have I actually worn them in the past 5 years? You guessed it… Barely at all. Proof that these things don’t “matter” anymore. And that spring/summer bag I bought in February and never had a chance to use? The only purpose it serves now is a sad reminder of how things used to be.

I’ve made a rule that I’m not buying anything I don’t need or can’t use right now—and this includes clothing and accessories. Moving forward, as we very slowly (but surely) return to some semblance of our former lives, I see myself taking a different approach to how I dress. My footwear of choice will continue to lean toward comfortable sandals and sneakers. I also foresee a simplified capsule wardrobe of basics that can be mixed and matched to suit different occasions, while always being comfortable.

My closet is now basically an archive—a snapshot of the world we once lived in (and may not even live in again). The unworn pieces that once gave me joy just by thinking about that “one day” I’d wear them have lost their luster, and most of them have been transferred to the “sell” bag. Just yesterday I decided to put on a pair of white Vince linen shorts I’ve had forever, only to discover they had a rip on side. I immediately took them off and threw in the trash—and I was happy to. One less thing that doesn’t matter.

There’s never been a better time to reevaluate what really matters and focus on making your little slice of the world (and society as a whole) a hospitable environment for what’s truly important. Today I’m purging my closet (yet again) so I can donate the proceeds to several charities that are committed to racial justice. Beyond monetary donations, I’m also keeping this conversation going within our household. My 11-year-old son has always been “color blind,” but I feel it’s important for him to know that not everyone sees the world like he does, and that he can play a significant role by being an advocate for “justice for all.” Not only does this matter right now, the future of our country (where our children will live for many more decades than us) depends on it.