Not that it’s unusual for me to cull my clothes. I’m
quite addicted to re-organising my wardrobe and I do it often. For me,
it’s like a form of fashion meditation. Superficial? Admittedly, yes.
But it works. There is chanting (“I must stop buying bootleg jeans I
must stop buying bootleg jeans”), nirvana (“I forgot I owned this
Morrissey tux! Wheeeee!”) and inner peace (“ahhhhh, more hanging
In my life, many different things can prompt a wardrobe edit. Change of
temperature. Change of fashion. Change of job. Change of house. Change
of body shape. But the time I’m most likely to take a style broom to my
closet is when I’m messy in the head. Stressed. Anxious. Grumpy.
Somehow the process of stocktaking my clothes and sorting them into
piles (keep/wash/dry-clean /sell/give away/store/was I on drugs when I
bought this?) brings me mental clarity. Hey, my life might be in
turmoil but at least my white t-shirts are all folded into a pile and
separated from my printed ones, OK?
So why was this particular purge so much more effective and cathartic
than previous chucks? Because I made a significant mental
breakthrough. Somehow I finally managed to clear the mental hurdle
There are two parts to this misguided philosophy. The first goes “it
must have been expensive so I must keep it”. The second goes “designer
label means good quality so I must keep it.” Foolishly, these two ideas
tend to triumph over common sense and the power of sight. That’s why
even though something may not suit me or fit me or flatter me, that
little posh label will win out and score said item a reprieve every
time. Until now.
In the midst of my chuck-fest, I cast a familiar eye over a black DKNY ¾ length jacket. Every time I edit my wardrobe, I look at this jacket and think, “Goodness, this is lovely. Great cut. I must wear it, really I must. Won’t it be utterly perfect one day when I’m more corporate? Perfect.” So back it goes into the closet where it lives, undisturbed until the next clean-out when I begin the process again, goldfish style.
This time was different. This time, when I looked fondly at the DKNY jacket, a sensible part of my brain piped up. “Um, excuse me?” it said. “Do you remember when you bought this thing? It was 1998. Yes. Nine years ago. And how often have you worn it in nine years? Maybe once. Twice tops. And the corporate thing? You’ve been working in a highly corporate environment for the past six months and not once has it occurred to you to put it on. Let’s be honest, it ain’t working, never has. To paraphrase Gretel Kileen…….Jacket? It’s time to go.”
And with that ka-ching realisation, it was off the hanger and onto the Sell pile faster than you can say “DKNY is not even a cool label anymore so it barely counts as designer anyway”. Buh-bye. Next?