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When I lived in Minneapolis, I shopped all the time. I bought new clothes, gifts, strange oddities I found at thrift stores, and lots of paperback books. The Mall of America was just minutes away and if I had a random afternoon with not a lot planned, I'd just head over there. I had a giant closet and a little room and I filled the closet and slept in the room.
But at some point, I became concerned about whether or not my fashion choices were ethical or not. I stopped buying trendy, poorly constructed, or questionably sourced garments. I looked at labels, seams, and thread counts. I paid $300 for a pair of shoes I know I'll still be wearing in a decade and that workers were paid to cobble by hand. I sighed when my last H&M camisole came apart at the seams, but knew I'd have to find a new source of under garments.
I'm not a minimalist, but I choose to buy quality garments now instead of a lot of inexpensive, low-quality clothing. My closet is no longer full, but I'm working on a wardrobe in which every item makes me feel beautiful, happy, and guilt-free.
But I can't quit my hosiery habit. I was organizing my dresser (it's a new year, after all) and as I kept pulling out tights, hose, and stockings, my husband looked on in wonder. You have two pairs of jeans, one sweatshirt, but dozens of pairs of tights? Why yes, yes, I do.
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On Christmas Day, both of the baby girls were wearing striped tights. One of my sisters-in-law jokingly says "enjoy the tights while you can, you can't wear striped tights forever."
I pipe in from the next room with "don't listen to her, girls, Aunt NGS wore striped tights last night."
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To see what Bestest Friend wrote about the theme of the day, check out her blog, Too Legit to Quit.
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