Passing the Teeny Tiny Baton

"Oh, mah word!" Here I am, about half-potted, at my 30th birthday party. Back when my big-ass hair was bigger than my ass. (Sigh) I was wearing this groovy little slinky halter top that I loved. It had a cartoonish print of Carmen Miranda in tropical colors. I was so proud because even though I was officially OLD, I could still wear this top that I'd bought as a teeny-tiny teen.

I just gave this top to my teeny-tiny neighbor, Megan, along with quite a few other vintage treasures, size nothing. (I think Megan's even smaller than I was.) I gave her what was my favorite shirt for a couple of decades: the top half of a pair of children's Chinese pajamas. And a cotton camisole. A couple of antique silk blouses that I'd altered drastically to fit. I also gave her some 80s jeans that I didn't even know I'd kept. Wow - some serious flashbacks there!

I'm trying to do a drastic pare-and-purge in anticipation of listing my house. Yes, the economy, the housing market, and certainly my health are near their worst... but I've decided that I've got to at least try to get out of here and be less miserable. The piggies next door have been up to their old tricks and I've given up hoping that they -- or their landlord -- will ever show some consideration to their neighbors. It's time to concede defeat and get out.

So I've hired Megan to help me with the sort-and-purge. If I should I actually manage to orchestrate the sale of the Villa and the purchase of another home, I will hire her to oversee the packing and moving. She strikes me as smart, honest, and hard-working; 98 lbs. of solid muscle and energy. My little quasi-hippie friend is delighted to have my groovy vintage garb, and I'm delighted to pass them on to someone who can actually wear them, and who appreciates them. Or, who has done a credible job of convincing me that she appreciates them; she may just be humoring me to keep the gig, but I don't think so. I know first-hand the thrill of being a very unusual size and finding really cool clothes that actually fit.

There is, I guess, a chance that I won't or can't sell, in which case I'll stay here at the Villa, but I feel I have to give it a shot.

I'm suddenly noticing that in almost all the pictures from that era, I'm wearing my treasured rayon shorts. I actually had two pair, in peach and gray, and apparently I wore them all the time, for the better part of a decade. Did everyone else notice? Does anyone need further proof of my complete lack of fashion sense?