Theses days when I dress I have to look at the labels in the clothes to figure out if they are mine. Almost everything is new so I don’t recognize my clothes.
Some years ago my spouse and I worked for a while in an area of civil unrest. Immediately upon arriving after a 42 hour trip, we were taught our evacuation route should shooting started. We were told to sleep with a package by our bed that continued our medicine, a toothbrush and a pair of underwear.
We evacuated from the fire with more clothes than most. I had grabbed a couple of suitcases and quickly packed as if we were going on a trip. I went to my spouses’ closet and grabbed one set each of sweats, relaxed clothes and casual clothes. I grabbed underwear, a dress shirt and pants. I was careful to get his favorites. I tried to do the same for me but my favorites were in the laundry. Not knowing what we were facing, I decided clean was better than favorite. Of course, now I have clean, not so favorite clothes.
When the fire came I was sick in bed. About an hour before the fire I had dragged myself out of bed to put on clean sweats and a camisole. When I was packing to evacuate, I grabbed an old bra. On the day after the fire I was dressing and the strap went north while I went south. I soon got a new bra but I will always remember that “Uh, oh, I’m in trouble” moment when the strap snapped.
I don’t have a lot of familiar clothes but I do have some underwear I recognize.