Out of closet over summer clothes

Saturday was switch-out-the-clothes day in the Hall household, when the winter clothes get stored away in boxes and the summer ones make their first appearance. In Missouri, that's Mother Nature's signal to send a few 50-degree days our way and laugh maniacally while we try to find our sweaters.

The process really stinks for me, because it includes determining whether last summer's clothes will fit this summer's butt. They did this year. Thank heavens for small favors.

The switch over reminds me there is an alarming gap in the quality of my two wardrobes.

Winter is all business. Dress slacks, polyester blend button-ups, cardigans, wool skirts, etc.

Summer is all sloppy. Cotton tops. Khakis. More cotton tops. More khakis. And half of it is hopelessly out of style. (Are people still wearing skorts?)

But even more depressing than the clothing options is the condition of my closet. It's so bad that The Other Half completely vacated his side this week. "You need the whole thing," he said. "I can just keep my clothes in the guest room."

The truth likely has something to do with his stuff potentially being lost in the confusion of shoes, cheap necklaces, ironing and empty plastic shopping bags on my side. There are actually several layers that reach about eight feet high with the help of shelves and hangers.

Layer 1: Consisting of assorted purses, sweaters and some wrinkled items that may or may not be ironed in the next several months, this layer sits on the shelf over the hang-up clothes. The sweaters directly on the shelf are neatly folded because they haven't been worn in five years, yet they haven't made their way to the Goodwill bin.

This layer also contains various colors and sizes of pantyhose. These include four pairs of gray nylons purchased from a clearance bin at Wal-Mart in the mistaken belief that, although they are clearly marked a size too small, they would stretch to fit.

Layer 2: This layer hangs from a metal pole that stretches the length of the closet. There are dresses unworn for years, covered in plastic from the dry cleaners. Some sections are crammed together while others are roomy, especially since Mr. Half vacated.

The best part is a necklace hanger purchased when I was 13 at the giant flea market housed in what is now the OFMCO building in Miner, Mo. I decorated the hanger with stickers, most of which are still there. (One reads, "I'm happy." What 13-year-old is happy? I think I was trying to convince myself.)

The necklaces range from a gold herringbone chain with several kinks, a gift to myself 10 years ago, to the $1.50 beads purchased last month. Taken to a pawn broker, the net worth of the whole lot would be roughly $5.

Layer 3: Resting on the floor, this layer contains all manner of shoes and crates. The smell is a mixture of old sneaker combined with solid air freshener. It takes roughly five minutes to match a pair of shoes, and these constitute only half my collection. The other half is in various rooms of my home, likely a subconscious rebellion against my mother's strict no-shoes-outside-your-closet policy.

My policy is: If you can close a door to it, it isn't there. Thus the state of my closets, dresser drawers and any parts of my home hidden from guests' view.

Don't remind me there are people who organize closets for a living. I don't need their help.

If they got a hold of my closet, I'd never find anything again.

Heidi Hall is managing editor of the Southeast Missourian.