A lot of women in relationships enjoy wearing their significant other's clothing, whether it be sweatshirts, t-shirts, or maybe even sweatpants. I definitely fall into this category. I am often eyeballing my boyfriend's closet thinking about what sweatshirt i'm going to steal next. Us ladies just love it. I've decided that it can be summed up like this: It's like wearing a hug. I say this because if you get the clothing fresh from their closet, it probably smells like them. It's also probably a little too big on you, making it feel more like a warm and cozy blanket around you than a fitted shirt of your own. And simply, it's theirs. The only way it could be more like a hug is if it squeezed you and kissed your forehead in the process.

I don't stop there though. I want everybody's clothes. I have a ratty old sweatshirt that my mom used to wear. It's got more holes in it than a colander, but it's easily one of my favorites. I have a few of my dad's old motocross racing shirts from when he was younger. My favorite one could double as a dress and has a giant hole in the under arm. So what? Maybe my armpit enjoys the breeze. My stepmom gave me one of her old denim shirts, with looney tunes characters embroidered on it. I'm fully aware that it's not in style for my generation, yet I can't wear it enough. For Christmas last year I asked my Grandma if she had any ugly sweaters I could borrow for all the parties. She said, "Well they aren't ugly but..." (They were in fact ugly.) I strategically avoided giving them back to her, and now I have two christmas sweatshirts of hers. One is everything a grandma's sweatshirt should be, featuring a kitten with some christmas decor. The other one is just Santa. Neither of these will be featured on a New York fashion runway anytime soon, but they will be featured on me.

Most recently, my Grandpa passed away. This was the first grandparent I've ever lost. To be honest, this was the first major loss I've encountered except for my dad's best friend (my godfather) who passed earlier this year. There are so many things that go into someone dying. Legalities, tensions, different ways of expressing grief, urns, where to put those urns, etc. It's a mess. Especially when you've never done it before. There is also the question of what to do with all of their things. So while everyone else was discussing lawyers, papers, furniture, and the small kitchen appliances, I set off towards the closet.

All I wanted were some shirts.

"Oh great, are you going to be walking around campus in these ones too?" a family member said to me. "Why would you want such old and baggy clothes?" Well, it's because it's not a fashion statement for me. It's just comforting. Believe it or not, I don't think this 2XLT shirt of grandpa's is flattering or stylish on me. I'm aware that it probably looks like i'm wearing a curtain that is pinned in various places so it doesn't fall off.

But this baggy shirt is comforting to me because it was his. He chose it, he wore it, and we have a picture with him in which he is wearing it. It may not be everybody's preferred way to remember someone, but it is mine. So good luck finding a hug in your new blender. I'll be warm and cozy in these old, baggy clothes