It's been time for one of those periodic closet and drawer purges and cleanses - not quite life-changing magic, but it certainly feels good - until one comes across an old favorite that is ragged, that has many wool pills and rubbings, and that has enough small moth holes to make me feel very unwilling to keep it, or to recycle it - and it would be ridiculous to try usual moth remedies like putting it in the freezer, or dry cleaning it ... because when did I last wear it? Not this year. Not last year - it didn't come to North Carolina. Presumably the year before, at least once (my clothes have to pass a wear-it-once-a-year-or-you'll-be-thrown-out test, and that test just didn't happen last summer). But. Still. A pang. I bought it in England sometime in the early 2000s (at Jigsaw, on the King's Road, if I remember correctly) and although I can't summon up any particular memories associated with it, I'm fond of it (even as I write, I find myself wondering if I should sneak upstairs and liberate it from the trash), Of course, a photograph is meant to record, to do the memory work, but I have a gloomy feeling that every time I encounter this image, I'm going to wonder if I couldn't have done something to rescue it ...
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