11/26/2014 12:00 pm ET Updated Nov 26, 2014

How I Broke Up With My Clothes (And My Walk-in Closet)

Simon Winnall via Getty Images

For a precious, fleeting period in my adulthood, I had a walk-in closet. This was during what I think of as my Mary Tyler Moore years, a decade in which I was single and had a good job, which afforded me a roomy rental apartment in a great neighborhood. This apartment had antique-pine floorboards and a fireplace; the bedroom had windows on three sides overlooking sunny Brooklyn gardens. In late summer, morning glories climbed up to my second-floor windows and bloomed there — including at the one in my closet.

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