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I have treasured dresses that don't fit me but I still can't throw them away

Many don’t even fit me anymore, but the thought of bundling them up ready for a Vinnies drop-off gives me shivers, and makes my eyes sting.

Antoanela in her aunt's yellow dress

Antoanela in the yellow dress that belonged to her aunt Source: Supplied by Antoanela Safca

A few years ago, when I was living with one of my best friends, we regularly shared clothes. She borrowed a red polka dot dress that used to belong to my mother. It looked beautiful on her, and I felt both pride and jealousy seeing her wear it.

Later that year, we moved out, and the red dress went with her. Something about that made me uneasy. The dress had been my mother’s, it had our family’s history in its fabric. I couldn’t simply give it away like it was just any dress. So I asked for it back.
The dress had been my mother’s, it had our family’s history in its fabric. I couldn’t simply give it away like it was just any dress. So I asked for it back.
I tried to wear it a few times but it just didn't fit right. Too long in the waist, too tight in the arm bands - I felt silly and capricious for insisting to have it back. But maybe it was the sign that I needed to let go of it, that I was allowed to, just this once. I considered my friend family anyway.

That was the first and only time I was able to let go of one of the clothes inherited from my family.
Nadia in the red dress
Nadia in the red dress that belonged to Antoanela's mother Source: Supplied by Antoanela Safca
I go back to Romania, my birth country, once a year, and every single time I visit, my mother, my auntie and I have wardrobe sessions and go through the clothes’ stories.

Who wore them, when, where, what stories we can recall about the event or the person. Each time I pick some to take back to Australia with me. Of course, it's an unspoken rule that these clothes are never to be parted with.

But I was starting to feel strange about my attachment (if not obsession) to hold on to these clothes. Many don’t even fit me anymore, but the thought of bundling them up ready for a Vinnies drop-off gives me shivers, and made my eyes sting.

So I reached out to friends and asked them if they too experienced this with inherited clothes.

I wasn’t expecting the avalanche of confessions.

My friend Meghan who admits to being strict with decluttering, holds on to “sweaters (now moth eaten), shoes, some handbags, a hat,” she says.

“When I see the items, sometimes hidden in the back of the closet, I think of my mum, grandmother, aunt and grandfather, whoever it belonged to, and it feels like I’m holding onto them in some way, or onto a memory, by keeping them all in my possession,” Meghan tells me.

My friend Pia holds onto several of her grandmother's and mother's traditional Indonesian batik dresses and dress-up outfits even though many don’t fit her.

“I hold on to it all as a way to keep them close and to feel connected. Most of the clothes are 45 years or older and have travelled from Indonesia to Sweden and then with me to Australia. They’re all priceless and hold so much emotional value,’ says Pia.
I too feel closer to my overseas family, to where and how I came to be when I catch a glimpse of one of these inherited pieces.
I couldn’t agree more. I too feel closer to my overseas family, to where and how I came to be when I catch a glimpse of one of these inherited pieces.

There is a navy flower print dress I can clearly picture my tall slender grandmother dancing in. Her sister-in-law, the village seamstress, sewed it after several fittings. Wearing it brings up so many feelings. Celebrating my family story, but also feeling closer to my grandmother and that precious relationship. If someone makes even the smallest comment on it, I gush with pride: “It was my grandma's!”

Another friend, Michael, confirmed something I suspected, but didn’t yet have the words for.

“One doesn't really own them, as much as acts as a custodian from one generation to another,” he said. “But things get a bit complicated with our generation, who moved half way across the world. It makes it tricky to continue this tradition.”

Now, Michael is a collector. However, as he and I are both discovering, collectors have a complicated relationship with decluttering. So while I hold on to my duty and privilege to look after this part of my family history, I want to make sure I apply some curation decisions to my clothes museum.

From now on I think I will keep an eye out for new ideal homes, just like I found for the red dress, and will try to let go of the pieces where the story dwindles and the fit is not quite right.

Antoanela Safca is a freelance writer. You can follow Antoanela on Twitter at .

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5 min read
Published 9 December 2019 12:47pm
Updated 24 September 2020 11:04am
By Antoanela Safca

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