My Pink Tie-Dye Companion

Written by: Natasha Arcoleo

Dear Pink Tie-Dye T,

I’ve known you for so long now, it’s hard to imagine a time when you weren’t around. I remember being amused as a child, seeing you for the first time in my Dad’s wardrobe (before of course, I subtly claimed you as my own). I couldn’t imagine the two of you together… but you’ve known him even longer than I have, back when he was more liberal and free and when leg warmers and tie-dye didn’t seem out of place.

In need of something slouchy and oversized for sleepy days at home, I started poaching you from time to time, until eventually, you went straight from the washing to my room instead. When I moved away to live on my own, there wasn’t a moment of doubt that you’d be coming with me. Now we’ve lived in five homes together and you’re looking frayed in places; a few holes here and there that I try to resist picking at in idle moments.

“I’ve gone from girl to womxn and you've been washed a thousand times, so I can’t be annoyed that you’ve slowly crept higher on my thighs. I’ll forgive you until you stop falling in folds over my shoulders.”

We’ve spent so many types of days together and each one reminds me of home. You’ve seen me through my hangovers, sick days, ‘I’m feeling lazy’ or ‘I just broke up with my boyfriend' days. I picture you paired with a duvet or a blanket and the feeling of curling into myself with you around me. I appreciate you the most when you’re freshly washed and I’ve just stepped out of a too-hot bath. My hair is damp at the ends and I forget to dry my neck properly and when I put you on I take a deep breath, taking in all the lovely soapy smells, knowing I’ve got an evening of movies, books and chocolate ahead.

“Your fabric is thinner and the holes are getting bigger but I can't imagine throwing you away.”

Maybe one day my child will discover you at the bottom of my wardrobe and think they’ve found the perfect t-shirt in the same way I have. In fact, I’m going to keep you in hopes that this happens.

Love always,

Your Grateful Companion

Natasha