What My Closet Says About Me

I was standing in my closet trying to decide which soccer jersey I felt like wearing.

This is apparently a process when you own enough jerseys to require internal debate.

As I stood there staring at the chaos, I realized something:

A person’s closet tells a story.

My Closet Has Geological Layers

Did you ever study geology or archaeology in school?

The deeper you dig, the older the layer. Different strata reveal different periods, habits, climates, and events.

Closets work the same way.

At least mine does.

When I look through mine, I can see the different eras of my life stacked on top of each other like sediment.

There are still a few remnants from my graphic T-shirt era.

Most of that species has gone extinct, but a handful survived because they mean something to me. One is a Jesse Smith tattoo-art shirt my youngest daughter gave me for Christmas a few years ago.

Jesse Smith appeared on Ink Master, and while his tattoo style is not exactly the same as mine, I have always appreciated his work (today's photo).

That shirt stayed.

Not because I needed another graphic tee.

Because it carries a memory.

Then there are traces of what I will call the Cargo-Pants-ological Period.

Yes, I still own a few pairs.

They are roomy.

They have enough pockets to transport the contents of a small convenience store.

And before you judge me too harshly, they still serve a purpose. Lindy and I take an annual mission trip to Guatemala, and cargo pants are durable, comfortable, and practical in the places we travel.

So they are not extinct.

But they are absolutely on the endangered-species list.

Then Came the Great Jersey Expansion

The dominant species in my closet today is the soccer jersey.

Football shirt, for our friends in nearly every other country on Earth.

Even that collection has archaeological layers.

I started with national-team jerseys.

Then came the explosion of Monterrey Rayados shirts.

Different seasons.

Different designs.

Different players.

Chupete Suazo.

Dorlan Pabón.

Rogelio Funes Mori.

Aldo de Nigris.

Then newer names joined the collection as the club evolved.

There are also FC Dallas jerseys, some older Dallas Burn shirts, and scattered clubs from around the world connected to players or teams I have followed.

The layers keep accumulating.

Some jerseys represent a favorite player.

Some remind me of a particular match.

Some remind me of where I was when I bought them.

Some probably remind me that I have a problem.

But they all get worn.

This is not a museum.

Even the Shoes Tell a Story

I am also one of those strange people who believes the shoes should make sense with the rest of the outfit.

Over time, my footwear has basically evolved into adidas Sambas and various Pumas.

That is it.

Apparently natural selection occurred in the shoe section of my closet too.

So What Does Any of This Mean?

These clothes tell my story.

Maybe not an exciting story to everyone else, but mine.

I remember where many of the pieces came from.

I remember how much I paid.

I remember negotiating for certain items.

Sometimes I even remember the person I bought them from.

Which is impressive because there are mornings when remembering to put on pants feels like an accomplishment.

But those details stick.

When I look through the closet, I see different versions of myself.

Mike 1.0.

Mike 2.0.

Mike 2.1.

Different interests.

Different jobs.

Different hobbies.

Different priorities.

All stacked together in one very poorly organized archaeological site.

That may also explain part of what I love about thrifting.

When I flip through somebody else’s old clothes, I sometimes wonder what version of that person I am looking at.

Who wore this?

Where did they wear it?

Why did they buy it?

Were they into the same things I am?

Would we have gotten along?

Clothing is more than fabric.

Sometimes it is evidence.

A little fossil from a previous version of somebody’s life.

And apparently I am just weird enough to enjoy studying it.

Modern-day Indiana Jones.

Except instead of ancient temples and priceless artifacts, I get racks of old jerseys and cargo pants.

Honestly, I am fine with that.

Happy thrifting!

Michael T.
Second Half Supply Co.

From the Hunt

Watching an Old Dog Learn New Tricks

The world changes.

That is an obvious statement, but after more than half a century on the planet, I have watched enough things change to occasionally feel like I missed a meeting somewhere.

One of the strangest developments to me has been the rise of the social-media influencer.

When I was younger, nobody told us you could make a living opening boxes on camera.

Yet somehow, here we are.

Businesses now live in the social-media world whether we planned to or not.

That means a dinosaur like me has had to evolve.

I am learning how to use social media to tell the Second Half Supply Co. story, share what Lindy and I find, explain why we buy certain things, show the mistakes, and hopefully have a little fun along the way.

There has definitely been a learning curve.

But that is part of the hunt too.

So if you would like to watch an old guy attempt digital Darwinism in real time, come find us.

Instagram & Facebook: Second Half Supply Co.
TikTok: @secondhalfsupplyco

You may see a good find.

You may see a bad decision.

You will definitely see a face made for radio.

But you will also learn a little more about Lindy, me, and why we enjoy doing this.

Come along for the ride.

Happy hunting.