whenever i visit home i don’t pack any clothes because i hate having to check a bag at the airport. i just wear whatever i have in my closet in my old room. the only thing is that the only clothes in there are whatever i had right before i moved out. so it’s like a weird time capsule of all the bad choices i wore like four to seven years ago. on top of that my mom’s made me donate a ton of it whenever i’m here so by now all that’s survived the purges are like the weird things i don’t even know how to categorize as clothes. like i got here and looked in my closet to see what i could wear to thanksgiving dinner and i had: one graduation gown, one toga i made for extra credit in latin class, multiple jeans i turned into cut off shorts. like, more than three pairs. the suit i wore to my cousin’s wedding last year, so many button down short sleeved shirts with dragons or weird swirly crap on one side, and the piece to resist, one faded, black hoodie with a large camouflage maple leaf on the chest. the hoodie i wore most of middle school and am wearing in more than one picture day photo. getting dressed each morning this past week has been like a project runway challenge.