MeiMei, my brother's wife, is a world class shopper. I've always thought if I had the luxury of time during one of my visits that I would actually attempt an inventory of her clothing (at least that of it which is in reasonably clear view). She's a television reporter and naturally, it's key she look polished and stylish on camera, but what's curious is that the bulk of clothing and accessories that she purchases never actually gets used. The garage is piled full of clothing, purses and shoes that still carry the original price tags. They lay there, gathering dust, waiting for the occasion when they might be the perfect accent to that day's outfit.

What drives her need to accumulate is not the items themselves; indeed, she already has enough clothing to ensure she'd never have to purchase another item until she's 90 without wearing the same thing twice. No, I believe it's the pursuit of acquisition and the quest for the ultimate bargain. Admittedly, she is remarkably adept at driving a hard bargain to get the best price. That is ingrained in her nature. She likes quality designer items, but she'll hunt and scavenge in order to get these objects at a multi-discounted price. It doesn't matter if she's in a venue that encourages bargaining or in a venue where it is wholly inappropriate (as I once witnessed at Sak's), she goes at it undeterred. Once the conquest is won, the item is of little consequence, though she does harbor a certain pride in bagging, say, a Marc Jacobs jacket for $100. I do admire this aspect of her tenacity (the same tenacity that makes her such a good reporter).

Like most old homes in big cities, there is limited space for any kind of wardrobe (to say nothing of a copious one) and closet space is always limited. In Marv and MeiMei's charming turn of the century Edwardian home, they have two closets in their bedroom, another closet in the guest room and a 3 foot by 16 foot storage space behind the guestroom. They share the respective closets in the bedroom. The guest room closet is full. The storage space is filled from top to bottom, end to end, with shoe boxes, bags of clothing, garment bags, coat hangers and purses in cloth bags. If you could clear a path to enter, you could leap atop the masses of items there and the sheer mass of stuff would ensure you'd never actually touch the ground. Such is the density of clothing pushed into this space: an apparel mosh pit.

Equally fascinating is the guestroom closet. When I arrived, I wanted to hang up a few business suits so they'd look crisp for the next few days. I had to muster every ounce of strength in order to squeeze in three hangers on the straining bar. What was totally amazing to me if that this closet contained solely one kind of clothing item: lightweight trench coats in cotton, leather and light wool. They were organized by color: from bone white to jet black with every single color in between. It was a PMS spectrum with no color sacrificed. I did an informal count of them (there were three rows). I counted 73 coats. Just trench coats. Freaking amazing.

As an ardent collector, MeiMei soon ran out of storage space. A few months ago, when an avalanche of clothing overwhelmed the guest room (to the point that the door could not be opened to the room at all), Marv had a meltdown. He demanded she remove it so that there would be somewhere for visitors to sleep (besides the couch). MeiMei dug in and the contents of the room were transferred to the garage, making it nearly uninhabitable . Marv has continued to stack these items in neat but precarious seven foot high piles in order to create walking space to allow access to the washer and enough room to park a car. As he shoveled these piles into some order again today (with me watching in fascination), I noticed with envy the sumptuous fabrics and high end labels peeking out from the bags. It's days like this that I regret that MeiMei is eight inches shorter than me and half the size.

A caveat: I can hardly point a finger at my sister in law without confessing retail sins myself. I enjoy shopping and have been guilty amassing certain cool items that I probably don't need if they are on sale. Alas, my apartment in New York offers even less storage options and I have no choice but to edit wisely. I also wear everything I buy. Still, there's that girly part of me that envies the notion that she can have 73 trench coats. How utterly decadent and kinda fabulous.