In Praise of the Ratty Old _ _ _ _ _ _

Everyone has one— that ratty old something too comfy to part with, too raggedy to be seen in good company (family excepted). It may the pilled cardigan you reach for every time there's a chill or the perfectly broken-in slippers that truly have seen better days. We just can't seem to get rid of them. Even worse, we really don't want to. There's something very comforting about those things you put on almost without thinking. I have two: the ratty old bathrobe and the ratty old sweatshirt.

THE BATHROBE started out quite the sale find at Anthropologie, so it had provenance. Rather than save it for good (an invite to—say—Downton Abbey), I wear it all the time. It's not too big and not too small, not too short and not too long. It's a nice shade of mouse grey terry in a jacquard pattern that looks like vintage toweling. By now it looks like the towels you should keep in the garage for emergencies. It's suffered a few mishaps in the washing machine (how did those bleach spots get there?????) and managed to pick up a rust stain that is now eating through the fabric. The pockets are misshapen from being overstuffed with kleenex. It's still the first thing I reach for after a shower. I know what it looks like so I just avoid mirrors. It's not my only bathrobe. I have two others hanging on the same hook outside the bathroom and one in a box in the closet that I even look at sometimes. AND I've my eye on a waffle weave cotton kimono style that I'm sure would be perfect. But not as perfect as this one.

THE SWEATSHIRT is another story. I picked it up at the coop the weekend I had a date with a boy at Ohio University. I was a junior in high school (still can't believe my mother let me go), and I don't remember the boy for the life of me. I have a vague memory of him at the fraternity house, but you could pull out my nails and I still couldn't tell you his name. That sweatshirt, though, has painted every apartment or house I've ever painted and planted any garden I've ever grown. It must have shrunk as the sleeves are barely bracelet length. If you ever want a sweatshirt to feel like a fuzzy, soft second skin, just wash it regularly over the course of 65 years. This is not an item to be replaced. It still performs its intended functions perfectly. I make no apologizes when wearing it. It is what it is, with an added layer of nostalgia. 

Maybe now you will look at your ratty old friend in a new way, since that will be the only thing new about it.