top of page
  • Rosanne Bostonian

Antiques Road Show

I like Antiques Road Show, except when an episode spontaneously appears in my closet.

I have clothes from every size and stage of my life. This is partially because I hate clothes shopping. Whoever designed the fitting rooms with their obviously distorted mirrors and brassy lighting has a sadistic side. Don’t even start me on bathing suit shopping.

Aside from shopping aversion, each garment is attached to a memory and I have a touch of hoarder in my blood. I never would have admitted that when I was cleaning up my mother’s house after she passed. Her closets were a comparable archeological dig through layers of living. At the time I was clear that this would NEVER be me. Alas, it is.

I have dresses I bought with my father patiently sitting as men do while I sported a variety of options. This was before the mirrors became unkind and the light wasn’t quite as revealing. I will never wear those dresses, but the picture they evoke is hard to give away.

I have clogs…yes, clogs. I think in the back of one closet are bell bottoms. (I feel cathartic writing this.)

I don’t even remember what’s in the attic. That will truly be a cobwebby stroll down memory lane. Some of the people on the real Antiques Road Show find wonderful and valuable things in their attics. I don’t think I’ll be so lucky. A close examination up in the attic may demystify where squirrels poop. (Please see an earlier posting :)

If you walk into my house, it looks appropriate, clean and orderly. But the shadow of memories lingers in obscure places. Ok… I’ll fess up that I have a sort of mausoleum in my basement with my entire family, two-legged and four-legged, in a variety of urns. Maybe all of this is why the show Hoarders fixates me. Sigh… it’s time for a purge!

As my only surviving relative in the next generation, my poor niece doesn’t deserve to be left with it all to sort and comprehend. Ok, I’m making a pledge to get at this during Spring. Maybe a dumpster will motivate me…at least one layer? Maybe one closet at a time?

Remind me if I… (ahem) forget.

With love,


bottom of page