does it feel a little creepy wearing a dead person's clothing?

[green papaya]

sometimes when I go to antique malls and I see vintage clothing & hats displayed on mannequins, it looks a little creepy? and I lose my appetite, sometimes I almost start to gag because of the thought of the original owner that once wore those clothing has long since passed away, and may have even been wearing those same clothing when they died. I geuss when that old clothing is displayed on the mannequin it almost comes to life. lol

one time I saw this really old stained wedding dress with veil from the 1800's displayed on a mannequin at a museum and it gave me the creeps, like I just saw a ghost

plus sometimes old clothing still has the odors & sweat stains of the original owner , eeeeewww!

 

[Paisley]

...may have even been wearing those same clothing when they died. lol

I very much doubt it.

 

[LizzieMaine]

I've been wearing dead people's clothes, sitting on dead people's furniture, reading dead people's books, and living in dead people's houses all my life -- and it's never bothered me a bit. And the time'll come when I'll be one of those dead people myself, and someone else will carry on the cycle -- when you think of it that way, it's actually kind of neat...

 

[Tomasso]

I see vintage clothing & hats displayed on mannequins, it looks a little creepy? and I lose my appetite, sometimes I almost start to gag

 

[scotrace]

My own diagnosis

You seem to have pediophobia.

 

[PADDY]

Sometimes....I see dead people...!

You too?

The joys of recycling my friend, it's a continuous natural cycle. And just think of all the pleasure 'we' on The Lounge get from sharing our finds and putting new wine into old wine sacks

 

[RondoHatton]

The only creepy feelings I got (and so did a few others) were from my dead
mother's accessories. Many years later I now regret disposing of them
(cedar chests, pre war ceramics, dish towels made from flour sacks).
It took me awhile before I stored clothes in the dresser built by my
grandfather's grandfather, but I love that thing now.
Sometimes a bit of guilt happens sorting through the departed's possesions,
but I would like to think (mystic nonsense alert) that somehow they would
be glad to see someone appreciate their stuff, enjoy having their favorite (?) things,
and carry on with it living life. Does it sound wierd to say a
prayer for whoever's estate you are rumaging through?
Any help from beyond would be appreciated!

 

[KittyT]

In his "the Book of Nightmares", the New Englander Galway Kinnell describes walking in a dead person's shoes.....

THE SHOES OF WANDERING

1

Squatting at the rack
in the Store of the Salvation
Army, putting on, one after one,
these shoes strangers have died from, I discover
the eldershoes of my feet, that take my feet
as their first feet, clinging
down to the least knuckle and corn.

And I walk out now,
in dead shoes, in the new light,
on the steppingstones
of someone else's wandering,
a twinge
in this foot or that saying
turn or stay or take
forty-three giant steps
backwards, frightened
I may already have lost
the way: the first step, the Crone
who scried the crystal said, shall be
to lose the way.

2

Back at the Xvarna Hotel, I leave
unlocked the door jimmied over and over,
I draw the one,
lightning-tracked blind
in the narrow room under the freeway, I put off
the shoes, set them
side by side
by the bedside, curl
up on bedclothes gone stiff
from love-acid, night-sweat, gnash-dust
of tooth, and lapse back
into darkness.

3

A faint,
creaking noise
starts up in
the room,
low-passing wing-
beats, or
great, labored breath-takings
of somebody lungsore or old.

And the old
footsmells in the shoes, touched
back to life by my footsweats, as by
a child's kisses, rise,
drift up where I lie
self-hugged on the bedclothes, slide
down the flues
of dozed, beating hairs, and I can groan

or wheeze, it will be
the groan or wheeze of another-the elderfoot
of these shoes, the drunk
who died in this room, whose dream-child
might have got a laugh
out of those clenched, corned feet, putting
huge, comical kisses on them
through the socks, or a brother
shipped back burned
from the burning of Asians, sweating
his nightmare out to the end
in some whitewashed warehouse
for dying-the groan
or wheeze of one
who lays bare his errors by a harsher light,
his self-mutterings worse
than the farts, grunts, and belches
of an Oklahoma men's room,
as I shudder down to his nightmare.

4

The witness trees
blaze themselves a last time: the road
trembles as it starts across
swampland streaked with shined water, a lethe-
wind of chill air touches
me all over my body,
certain brain cells crackle like
softwood in a great fire
or die,
each step a shock,
a shattering underfoot of mirrors sick of the itch
of our face-bones under their skins,
as memory reaches out
and lays bloody hands on the future, the haunted
shoes rising and falling
through the dust, wings of dust
lifting around them, as they flap
down the brainwaves of the temporal road.

5

Is it the foot,
which rubs the cobblestones
and snakestones all its days, this lowliest
of tongues, whose lick-tracks tell
our history of errors to the dust behind,
which is the last trace in us of wings?

And is it
the hen's nightmare, or her secret dream,
to scratch the ground forever
eating the minutes out of the grains of sand?

6

On this road
on which I do not know how to ask for bread,
on which I do not know how to ask for water,
this path
inventing itself
through jungles of burnt flesh, ground of ground
bones, crossing itself
at the odor of blood, and stumbling on,

I long for the mantle
of the great wanderers, who lighted
their steps by the lamp
of pure hunger and pure thirst,

and whichever way they lurched was the way.

7

But when the Crone
held up my crystal skull to the moon,
when she passed my shoulder bones
across the Aquarian stars, she said:

You live under
the Sign
of the Bear, who flounders through chaos
in his starry blubber:
poor fool,
poor forked branch
of applewood, you will feel all your bones
break
over the holy waters you will never drink.

 

[Technonut]

Nah... Dead is dead... Does not bother me in the least.. It's not like they need it anymore. [huh]

 

[DominusTecum]

I have an old book that was printed in 1627. It's probably been owned, held, and read by a very large number of dead men. Some may even have died while reading it. Should I toss it out or lovingly donate it to a museum or library for this reason? Nah, no thanks. I don't even really think about it. One of the facts of life is that the things that men make usually stick around longer than the men who made them. About the only reasonable thing to do is to profit from this, and to make use of those things, like the deceased would want you to. You can think of it as your own memorial to the good people who originally designed, made, and wore the duds that you have on.

 

[Paisley]

I've been wearing dead people's clothes, sitting on dead people's furniture, reading dead people's books, and living in dead people's houses all my life -- and it's never bothered me a bit. And the time'll come when I'll be one of those dead people myself, and someone else will carry on the cycle -- when you think of it that way, it's actually kind of neat...

We're also breathing the air they breathed, drinking the water they drank, and living on the planet they lived on. Life's messy!

 

[Haversack]

I've come across a related behavior among many of the aerospace and electronic engineers who work in Silicon Valley, (pre-Web). They refuse to live in a house that someone else has lived in. Its not so much a reaction to "people having died there" but is instead is against the idea that someone else has lived there. The house really can't be theirs if someone else has already lived there. There is also a certain amount of "ewww!" to this behavior. This also means that as these people get more successful, they end up with a longer commute as the new housing developments are increasingly further away.

I've also come across a similar reaction almost specifically among some women moving into an existing house. They not only replace the existing toilet seat, but also the existing toilet. Some even go so far as to replace the bathroom mirrors. All of this behavior is because someone else has used it. One hesitates to to mention Caesar's Last Breath.

Haversack.

 

[ohairas]

My brother says this to me all the time. Doesn't bother me a bit! I only wish I knew more about the people these things came from.
Besides, I highly doubt they were "dead" while they wore or used the item.

Like others have said, I think the folks that have passed would be glad someone else is appreciating their things. I surely hope someone will treasure all of my junque when I'm gone!
Nikki

 

[Miss_Bella_Hell]

Doesn't creep me out either. Know what does make me near-gag? Gelatin. ICK!

 

[KittyT]

Doesn't creep me out either. Know what does make me near-gag? Gelatin. ICK!

Yeah. Dead peoples' clothing doesn't bother me. What does creep me out, though, is dead animal's clothing. Yuck!

 

[green papaya]

what if wearing a dead man's / woman's clothing caused you to behave like the person that originally owned it? like what if their spirit possesed the new owner that wore their clothing? that would really be scary lol

 

[K.D. Lightner]

I wear old Borsalino fedoras that are at least 50 years old, bet the guys (am sure they were guys) who wore them are long gone. I live in my parent's house -- the lady who had it built 90 years ago was dead by the time we moved in it in 1951. I once saw her ghost, but that was before my father remodeled the house. Now, my father is dead, but no ghosts in this house.

A favorite uncle, who died in 1949 left a treasure I did not know about until I moved back here: a custom-made black cashmere long coat. I am losing weight and can hardly wait to fit in it. That it belonged to my Uncle Jack, whom I adored, has me stoked. I will wear it not only because it is beautiful (and untouched since 1949) but in honor of him.

On the other hand, an uncle died last year who had a brown burial suit and mother said she needed to buy a pair of brown socks. I donated a pair of mine. I have another pair just like it and it creeps me out a bit that the second pair is gracing Uncle Kenneth's rotting feet in a box, in the dark, six feet underground.

I didn't much care for him, maybe that is why the reaction, or maybe I am just weird.

karol

 

[imoldfashioned]

I have no weird feelings about using vintage things. I'm another who wishes the original owner could tell me when and why they bought the items I use.

This thread reminds me of one of my favorite songs:

Estate Sale
Words And Music By:
Cheryl Wheeler

Estate sale today, from 1 o'clock to 4
You go and get ready, I'll go start the car
Better to be early, then we'll be the first in line
And you know how I love this, it's amazing what you'll find

(Chorus)
Going through dead people's houses
Wonderful things they have collected
Open the drawers and trunks and closets
Don't leave a corner uninspected

I'll head for the kitchen you check out upstairs
Old post cards and pens and blue Fiesta Ware
Shaving mugs and winged eyeglasses, giant plastic pins
Linen suits and flowered dresses, I'm so glad we got in

(Repeat Chorus)

They just don't make 'em like this
It's an incredible prize
We can hang it in the kitchen
She was just your size
It's a beautiful frame
And the picture's all right
Salt and pepper airplanes
And that deco light

(Repeat Chorus)

Tonight we'll go home and sort through our array
We'll find the best spots to put things on display
You can't get this great stuff anymore, I don't know why
But I bet we'll make some young strangers happy when we die

(Repeat Chorus)

5/18/88

 

[ohairas]

This thread reminds me of one of my favorite songs:

Estate Sale
Words And Music By:
Cheryl Wheeler

LOVE IT IOF!!
Nikki

 

[scotrace]

what if wearing a dead man's / woman's clothing caused you to behave like the person that originally owned it? like what if their spirit possesed the new owner that wore their clothing? that would really be scary lol

Unless you were wearing Gable's pants. Then you'd get the babes. lol