One man's trash

I have to express my appreciation for all of the hand-me-downs I get. I get many. From friends, from my sister, from coworkers - and I love it. It's like having personal shoppers who just once in a while surprise you with a new sweater, a new pair of pants, a new dress. For some reason, wearing an entire hand-me-down-ed outfit is way more fun than wearing my own clothes. I've always had a thing about wearing other people's clothes. I steal sweatshirts and socks from Boyfriend, gladly accept my dad's old t-shirts, and live in my sister's clothing when I visit her, even though I've got a suitcase full of weather-and-outting-appropriate clothing in the guest room. I "borrow" my mom's pajamas and leggings, and even have a pair of exercise socks I snagged from my German cousin while he was staying at my place. I once read an article about how people who like to wear recycled clothes are searching for connectedness, and see clothing as a physical representation of closeness with the former item owner. That could be. As a second child, you'd think I'd have grown up to detest hand-me-downs. So maybe it's just that hand-me-downs are familiar, and remind me of life as I've always known it. Taking what someone has decided to throw away (or something that I've decided they ought to give away...) and loving it like my own.