On the Same Level as Comfort Food

When the weather starts to get cold, people start talking about comfort food.
Chicken Soup.
Mashed potatoes.
Anything warm, gooey, buttery or cheesy seems to get the title of comfort food.
Although I am a huge fan of comfort food, cold weather also signals the onset of my favorite time of year–comfort clothes season.
I hate to start off with a sad story, but I recently had a harrowing encounter with the local Cobbler about some shoes.
Not just any pair of shoes, mind you.  My cold weather, heavy-duty clogs that I have had….
hmm–not sure how long I’ve had them.  At least 15 years for sure (which are how items in my wardrobe get the coveted title of comfort clothes.)
You see, the soles started to come apart and winter is fast approaching.  No problem, I thought, I’ll just take them down the street for the Cobbler to repair. He’s such a nice man.  The whole family works there.  Kids to Grandparents.
When he looked at my shoes, he immediately diagnosed the problem.  Dry Rot. Non-repairable.  “What?”  I cried.  “Look, you have fixed everything from purse straps to belts for me and you can’t fix these shoes?  That’s your specialty!   Look closer there must be something you can do.” I sobbed.  “I’m so sorry,” he said, sadly shaking his head. “There is nothing I can do.  I can dispose of them if you want.”
And just like that they were gone.  Years of comfort tossed in the trash of a Cobbler.
*moment of silence please*
There is a happy side to this story.
I still have my favorite sweatshirt.  I guess you could still call it a sweatshirt.
The origins of this shirt can be traced back to the early to mid 1980’s.  I know I got it after we were married in ’82.  I know I wore it while I was pregnant with the boys and that started in 1985.
We’ve been through a lot together to say the least.  It started out as a nice sweatshirt–one I would wear out in public.
At some point over the years, the collar has managed to disappear
and the cuffs are no longer in existence.
I can no longer tell if it’s inside out or not.
It is worn so thin you have to wear a shirt underneath.
It has no distinct shape.
It’s loose.
It’s floppy.
It’s perfect.
Every year when I drag it out, Al says (in disbelief), “is that thing still around?”
Yep.  I can always count on my favorite sweatshirt.
I may even wear it next time I visit the Cobbler.
Friends, please reassure me you have some comfort clothes you’ve had forever.