When I was a child, our cook gave me plastic bags with which I stored my clothes in so I could change anywhere. It was just so demode having to wear the same clothes everyday. What if I wanted a new velvet jacket on for dinner? Or a bottle-green jacket for supper? It's ridiculous not to carry around plastic bags to change wherever you want; because what happens if there's a wedding that was planned in 5 seconds because the bride and groom are really fast people? Obviously, you won't want to be wearing just any high collar, hmm? Or if one falls in love with a particularly gorgeous girl, hm? One will be wearing the jacket I just designed specifically for falling in love with a gorgeous girl. What if one is being chased down the river (in Vermont) by a tongue-wagging Marc Jacobs. Well, in that case; one runs. But I'd first get changed into my running clothes; which consist of a Tom Ford suit modified for speed (it has red lining in the jacket), and a very dashing pair of Cuban heels.
Do you see my point, hmmmm? One needs clothes for every occasion. When I was "little", plastic bags served this purpose (see! I'm showing my humanity through the use of plastic bags, no? It's like the Greek gods and their flaws, hmm? Of course, using plastic bags is not a flaw but simply adorable. So now maybe other lesser gods can kind of relate to me. And then they'll read on and realize they'll never possibly be able to fully relate to me or be as much of a genius as I; and thus my plan would've worked and those smug little lesser gods will be not-so-smug).
Now I have Brad. And all those fashion people are being so eco-friendly with their "global warming" and whatnot; which is a serious issue according to Al Gore; who needs dressing tips. So I can't really give plastic bags to Jane to use for her clothes without Al Gore and the fashion-eco-PETA loving-scum will descend on me; which I will fight off using the shear chic-ness that I innately posses. With one glance at them (the glance you see in the picture that is probably right beside of you, or at least in a framed picture on your wall). But I don't want to fight off those demode PETA-loving-secret-fur-wearing people; because I don't really want Antarctica to melt. I want to use it for a photoshoot later this year. So it's very important nobody melts Antarctica, hmm? So those demode people with their giant magnifying glasses pointed at the ice caps better stop doing so, hmm? They're like the fat kid who burns ants. The fat kid with blonde hair, and ice-cream, and glasses pushed to his face. That kid.
So I'll give Jane transportable closets instead. With feet on the bottom. (Terry Pratchett, come around for a drink sometime, hmm?)