The Trial of Emilia’s Closet

By Jameson Grem

“Do I want to bring my bomber jacket? I don’t know, I don’t know!” cried Emilia, as she waded through piles upon piles of her worldly possessions. She cursed the amount of them. Who knew she had this many! It made decisions all the more agonizing. Red with green? Black with grey? Red, green, black, and grey...didn’t she own any other colors!? Funny how one doesn’t realize the patterns they’ve fallen into until they’ve turned their entire closet out onto their bed and their bedroom floor and are forced to have a good, hard look at them all. And nothing makes one consider the value of one’s possessions quite like making each stand trial to prove they, above all others, are worthy of being taken on a short holiday. Slowly, the bag in the center of her room fills up with tonight’s fashion choices. Whether these choices will stand the test of time over the next week is yet to be determined. 

The root of her stress is that she’s headed to South By SouthWest. That glamorous, sprawling festival that overtakes the whole of Austin, Texas once every year, when the entirety of the music and literary and comedic industries converge upon the city in all their eccentric splendor. It’s one big, glorious affair in which one wishes to be seen. Emilia is not different. Her goal, after last year’s success, is to be mistaken for a celebrity. 

She thinks she hears something odd and pauses in her packing, popping upright, at attention - like a meerkat on the watch - and realizes they are amorous sounds coming from overhead. The upstairs neighbor woman’s boyfriend must be in town again, she notes, and then she gets back to packing her bag industriously. She’s got her beret. She’s got many colorful socks. She’s got pjs - although she doesn’t see why anyone bothers; one can wear anything they like to bed, she reckons. 

Taking another look at her nearly-packed bag, she worries that maybe she’s packed too much, and should instead pack less…. but she doesn’t feel like doing a full reassessment. It’s nearly midnight, afterall, and she can’t go to bed without Nairing her legs. But, alas, she realizes she forgot bras! Bothersome things, but if she must wear them, she prefers those of the sporting variety. Any other bra is uncomfortable and torturous, hardly worth wearing at all. 

As she packs, she rediscovers old, forgotten clothes and brief flashes of memories blink before her mind’s eye. They are afforded a moment of appreciation, and then are quickly pushed aside by the task at hand. She decides this is a good amount to pack, after all and that this entire process has taken entirely too long into the night. Not that she expects to be able to sleep anyway. She’s too excited! Slowly, she starts to toss her possessions back into their approximate place in her room, all the while happily singing songs to herself in a debatably made-up language. 

But wait! As she’s rummaging around in her room, she uncovers her jewelry! She wants to wear the necklace hung with thin twisted chains of yellow. But does it go with anything she’s packed? No….the real question is...does it bring her joy? Yes. It brings much joy. She wants to pack it. But...does it go with what she’s packed? No. It doesn’t. But it does bring her joy. So much so, that she doesn’t want to risk getting it sweaty such that the paint chips off of it or transfers onto her skin as she wears it. So she decides, with a heavy heart, to leave it behind. Silver and gold go with much more anyway. 

Putting her things away proves to be more stressful than it’s worth. There’s a reason she avoids her room whenever she’s home. It’s become quite the quandary, as she’s never home long enough to clean and organize it! Where DID her backpack go??? Ah, there it is. Tucked beneath her bed, already forgotten after its retirement from its long tour upon her shoulder. In her daily life, it’s been replaced by a shoulder bag that affords more carrying space, and now it offers its service as the occasional travel bag. Whether the backpack minds this is unknown; it preferred not to comment. 

As she goes down her checklist, she realizes she’s left her contact solution at her parent’s house. Deodorant is, unfortunately, M.I.A. Both are to be purchased in the near, near future. Those and maybe more snacks, as well. Her sister in Austin expects snacks, and lots of them! She reassures herself that she has plenty. She is packing chips. That is all anyone anywhere ever needs. And that is her life’s philosophy. Dubiously satisfied with her packing job, she decides the deed is done. She and her chips are off to Texas - in the morning -- and after a few hours of fitful, gleeful sleep.