Is there a black hole in your wardrobe?

Everyone has at least one black hole in their wardrobe. Me? I have two. Contrary to popular belief, wardrobe black holes are not where stray socks go to die although sometimes, socks are involved.

Quite simply, a black hole is a particular area of your wardrobe where you are inexplicably blind to the fact you look dreadful. They are the sections of your closet low on vanity and maintenance. They involve little money, even less thought and yet they can be extremely upsetting for those forced to look at you.

For example socks. Some people (some male people) have a wardrobe black hole called ‘socks’. They think it’s perfectly fine to wear white socks with black shoes. It’s not at all fine and you’re hurting the eyes of innocent people so please stop with your black hole and buy some black socks for your black shoes. OK?

The two black holes in my own wardrobe are called Exercise Clothes and Sleepwear which is odd since I exercise regularly and sleep daily. Together in fact, sleeping and exercising account for a decent proportion of the time I spend dressed and since I am, by nature, a fairly vain person, my disregard for my own appearance during these times is baffling. Especially given the fact I frequently climb into my sleepwear around 6pm and spend up to six hours doing things before actually going to bed for another six.

That’s a lot of time to spend in a black hole.

Until very recently, when I woke up to this fact, my sleepwear consisted of a motley assortment of old t-shirts and mis-matched pyjama tops, and 2 pairs of pyjama pants I bought on sale for $10 at Best & Less two years ago. Special.

As for exercise attire, let’s just say that there are advantages to having a treadmill at home and they include being able to wear whatever you damn like because nobody will see you. As it happens, my pyjamas are often conscripted to multi-task as exercise-wear.

Black holes can happen to anyone. Even people who care a great deal about their appearance and spend big on clothes. Friend A describes her swimwear black hole as ‘the size of the Grand Canyon’, noting that when summer comes, she can’t face cossie shopping and so tries to tie new sarongs around her faded, manky one-piece in the hope she can “just ignore the whole sorry situation”.

Friend B admits her black hole is underwear, confiding, “At Easter, I went away with two girlfriends and their families. Hanging out the washing was humiliating. My ‘grey’ (once white) nana knickers with ripped elastic swung in the breeze next to swanky G-strings, bright white hipsters and cute boylegs. Humiliatingly, one of my friends was breast feeding a 4 month old and even her undies were nicer than mine.”

Interestingly, exercise gear is a common black hole.

Friend C admits “I hate spending money on Lycra.  I own one pair of leggings and one sports bra and I only run three times a week to allow washing and drying time. The amount I exercise is dictated by my inability to buy a second sports bra! How ridiculous is that?”

Very. And yet to me it makes perfect sense.

Even if that same person can be so obsessed with the nuances in denim that she owns dozens of pairs of jeans, virtually identical to the human eye.
Another interesting thing I learned is that many women exercise in some variation of their pyjamas. Friend D says, “Since I walk the dog every morning, I should buy a tracksuit so that I’m comfortable and warm but I don’t.  I wear my pyjama bottoms and a jumper in winter and one of my boyfriend’s t-shirts in summer.  Worst thing is, I don’t sleep in pyjamas so I just put them on for the walk. “

Footwear is another wardrobe black hole for some with lovely shoes and boots sitting neglected while havaianas, uggs or trainers are taken out for a spin day after day. I may also be * cough * guilty of this.
Which brings me back to socks and Friend F who shall be given the final word: “I love buying underwear but buying socks seems like a complete and utter waste of my energy. I will wear my socks until there is more hole than fabric, and then proceed to raid my husband’s sock drawer. I’ll do anything to avoid buying them. They just seem too boring to spend money on. They should be free.”

A few months ago, I decided it was cruel and unusual punishment to expect my family to see me looking like a vagrant so often. I forced myself to buy some nice pyjamas and some actual exercise clothes. For a moment, I quite got into it, marvelling at the whole world of options available for people who care about what they wear when they sweat and sleep. But I’m ashamed to say that I soon lost momentum and reverted to old habits. At least I have some new pyjama pants to wear on the treadmill.

What are the black holes in your wardrobe? Got any?

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