Still thinking about clothing, I have a very specific category of garments in my wardrobe — the things Alice made.
Alice (one of the people in our house) is a superlative knitter. Here are all the things she has made me — and right now she's knitting me another pair of socks.
The socks Alice has made me are (I don't know why) the only ones that work for my feet. I cannot tell you how many pairs of socks I've bought and passed on, too many to remember. Of the ones in the picture, I'm wearing the blue pair (I took them off for the photo), the brown pair is on my shelf waiting to be worn next, and the grey pair is in my mending bag awaiting yet another darn (there are many darns on the soles of the grey pair and the blue pair, the ones I've had longest).
Of the waistcoats in the picture, the one on the right is wool from Herdwick sheep, an Old Breed and still going strong. Their wool is quite coarse and scratchy, so it works well as a warm layer over something softer. That waistcoat has amber buttons, very pretty. The one on the left is knitted from handspun fleece from Ouessant sheep. The yarn was sent to me by Caroline in Yorkshire, who reads here sometimes, and Alice knitted it up for me into this beautiful waistcoat with wooden buttons.
The hat is alpaca, Alice's own design of pattern. The mittens are the only sort I wear (fingerless) and I love them.
Here are some of the things she made, in action.
I would never, under any circumstances, get rid of the clothes Alice made me. I treasure them. I think it's garments like this that give individuality and personality to one's wardrobe, making it unique. They also add a touch of quiet colour to the neutrals that make up most of what I have, which adds visual texture that I appreciate.
But today I am sending on their way a pair of bought socks that didn't work out — very nice socks, but uncomfortable on my fussy feet — and a pair of leggings that I liked and wore as PJs. They've comprehensively gone into holes.