Dear every item in my wardrobe that I have needlessly and shamefully hoarded over the years,
I guess we've all known each other for a while now. Some of you I met in low-down op shop bargain bins ( I won't name names; your sordid past is entirely your own business), others in the sort of irritating, highbrow, expensive stores frequented by orange-skinned morons with shrill voices and boyfriends named 'benz'. We've shared many an erotic high time, a few miserable soy-sauce-related lows and for the most part, enjoyed a mutual exclusive monogamous dresser/dressee relationship.
However, for some of you, it's time to go.
Its not that I don't love you anymore. I will remember All of those times we've spent together. The day-breakers at rics bar, the hungover slothing on the couch and the many a fashion show we've been to where I could have easily traded you for what was on the runway (sorry about that).
It's just that you simply don't look the same as you used to. You've let yourself go. Times change, people change, and well, your time is up.
For some of you might be lucky enough to be put in a box until next season, however for the rest, you're free! There are other fish in the ocean- i'm that you will find another owner who will re-live my love for you.
This is as hard for me as it is for you,
Good luck and goodbye,
(don't you even dare about thinking of sneaking back in my wardrobe),
Zoie.
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