I'm always surprised that clothes sell so badly at car boot sales, probably because I've bought so many of my clothes at carboots and flea-markets -- not quite every time I'm down in the dumps, but close, and yes, I know it shows. (At least in the winter I've got the excuse that I am getting dressed in the dark, but now the clocks have gone forward I'll have to either smarten up my act or think of a better excuse.) The scarlet crushed-velvet skirt-suit that I wore for my second Oxford interview (the successful one) came from Loughborough's bric-à-brac market; I remember seeing it hanging there in the corner with £9 written on a white label, and I knew I had to buy it. It didn't bring me luck, but it brought me confidence, which was probably more useful.
What should I do with the clothes that didn't sell at the car boot sale?
Give them all to charity shops
Sell the expensive/BNWT (l@@k!) ones on eBay, give the rest to charity
Have an LJ bring-and-swap clothes party when the weather's a bit warmer and the house is a bit tidier
Something else (which I will suggest in comments)
Today I got dressed twice, once in trousers to cycle to the bike shop, and then (when I'd walked home, leaving the bike to be fixed) into a skirt before driving to work. It's so much more awkward to wear a skirt if I'm cycling, but I like to wear them occasionally, just for the hell of it. It doesn't feel so much like 'dressing up' as a girl, any more. (I've been re-reading Tamora Pierce's Song of the Lioness quartet, and wondering if there have been any stories about boys who dressed as girls to go and seek their fortune. Perhaps I should write one.)
I've just remembered, though, I forgot to ring the shoe-shop to see if they can fix the shoes I took in on Saturday. Nobody seems to sell black lace-up ankle-boots any more, so if they can't fix them, I'll have to pretend to be fashionable instead. Or just wear shoes that let the rain in. Most of my clothes let something in somewhere around the seams: rain, or air, or ways I used to think I wanted to look.
Time to get my flat-soled trainers on (slipping them on and off under the desk is probably a bad habit, but only a mild one) and go home. The sky's dark and bright all at once, and I'm dressed for winter, but even thick grey tights can't stop it being spring.