I dumped my wedding dress yesterday

To Being, Not Having

I dumped my wedding dress yesterday.

I didn’t realize it would hurt this much.

I moved to LA almost 30 years ago with one suitcase, stuffed with cute clothes for going out. Minimalist. Proud. Ingenue with an attitude. Inspired by Henry Miller, who was one of my literary idols, I loved the idea of carrying only what is essential for living and writing.

When my ex and I moved in together, I made them sign an anti-clutter pact. It lasted about as long as our Las Vegas champagne buzz.

Stuff piled up over the years: the first restaurant guidebook I published (my parents were so proud), keepsakes from my great-grandmother, discarded kids’ toys, karate weapons … and that dress.

Sleek. Fitted. Tiny pearls around the collar. A vintage Hollywood find from the ‘40s. Size XS.

I held it once more. Traced the delicate pearls with my fingertips. Smelled the faint perfume—Mami’s Shalimar, nicked from her bathroom—trapped in the seams. And then: dumpster. Gone.

I’m no longer a size XS.
No strawberry-blonde bob.
No longer married.

Leaving the City of Angels feels like leaving a best friend.
Almost everything I own will stay behind.

And maybe that’s how it always is.
One suitcase.
One life.
One self.

“If there is to be any peace it will come through being, not having.”
— Henry Miller