The Sombrero That Taught Me to Stop Saving Things for Someday

When I first started taking guys to Puerto Vallarta, I found this photo of a really handsome dude in a sombrero that I fell in love with. I wanted to use it for marketing, but I was trying to be respectful of copyright laws. So I started hunting around for sombreros, and thanks to Facebook Marketplace, I was able to find two of them for a decent price. Scratch that—for a fairly expensive price. It was $80 for the two of them, but I really needed this prop, and they looked better than anything I could get on Amazon.

I asked my buddy Michael to come over and pose for the shot. The photo turned out great, and I was thrilled with the results. It's served me well over the years. Somebody eventually asked if they could purchase the black sombrero, and I was happy to sell it. But the other sombrero—the blue one—has been hanging in my room for the last five years, a constant reminder that I wanted to move to Mexico. I've got all kinds of reminders in my room of things that keep me focused on that goal.

This morning, I noticed something: that blue sombrero hanging on the wall by its neck string is looking really sad. The humidity and weather conditions over the years, plus improper storage, have taken their toll. It's actually peeling away from the wall. Its form is deformed, and if I tried to put it on my head now, I'd look absolutely ridiculous. And because of where it's positioned, the sun has faded half of it. It's worthless now. It gave me great memories and served as a North Star—or would that be South Star?—to get to Mexico, but either way, it's worthless.

And I started thinking about how many things I have in my house that were boxed up and never used.

My Bob is far worse than I am about this. He's mostly gotten over the habit now, but a couple of decades ago, he would open gifts on Christmas morning, thank me, put them back in the box, and then put them in the attic. It's not that he didn't appreciate them. By keeping them in the box, they were forever new, and that memory got cemented in with that moment, so that when he eventually opened them up, he could relive it all over again.

The problem is, he forgot he had things. A couple of decades would go by, and sometimes the gift would still be usable. Sometimes, because of the passage of time, it would not be.

I have a line of dolls up in the attic by the artist Mel Odom. They're these 16-inch, gorgeous vinyl dolls called Gene. While Barbie was allowed to be anything from an astronaut to a schoolteacher to a veterinarian, Gene is, was, and always will be a starlet from Hollywood's Golden Age. All of her costumes come from her line of fake movies, and she has an amazing backstory and supporting characters.

I've kept all of these dolls pristine in their original boxes, never taken out, never played with, never displayed. And now that we're getting closer to moving to Mexico, I don't want to take them with me. They don't fit into the aesthetic of the new house, and they would have been perfect in my current house. While these dolls were anywhere from $100 to $200 when I bought them, if you look online, they're worth a fraction of their original price now.

So this is a reminder: If you have things that are boxed away for someday, enjoy them now. Take them out of the box. So few things actually appreciate in value anymore. Enjoy them, wear them, show them love. Wear them out. Patch them up if necessary and enjoy them for as long as you can.

The last thing I want when I go is an attic full of things that were never appreciated.