Downsizing wardrobe
Or how I realised gluttony is my main sin.
It took me three weeks—one run a day in my Mini filled to the brim with clothes on hangers and stuffed into bags (clothes inside bags, bags inside bags, shoes inside bags)—to move my wardrobe over to the new house, where I then struggled up three flights of stairs to cram everything into my new wardrobes, which feel smaller and narrower. Or do I just have too much stuff?
After a week of very intense packing just before the move, my back started hurting, and my leg muscles were pulling as if I had growing pains. My Oura ring was registering higher levels of stress, and my heart rate was at the level of a cardio workout. I felt desperate, miserable and, even more, ashamed of my uncontrollable desire to accumulate things, which felt like it was going to consume me—bury me under heaps of clothes in some kind of avalanche.
I tried to reason with myself—well, this dress I’ve had for nearly ten years now, and this I bought on resale, and I barely have a piece I’ve never worn (there are a few—like the hunchback dress from the Prada AW23 show; it is stunning, and I still love it so much, but will I actually ever dare to wear it? Turns out, I’m not quite fashionista enough for some things).
I have also, of course, combed through my cupboards, trying to be as ruthless as possible and determine what has to go—either to resale or charity. Some things I would pull out to photograph and upload to my resale archive account, only to give them another try and put them back in the wardrobe, admitting defeat.
I tried to apply the Marie Kondo method, which I somehow picked up back in the day without even reading the book (my drawers are meticulously organised—an obsession that’s a hybrid of that and my experience of working in retail, that is - on the Zara shop floor—man, I can fold!) —and the newly acquired wisdom from Irene Kim of In Moda Veritas, who had to downsize to a third of her living space in Canada when she moved to Paris about a year ago.
I have let go of things that are too colourful (I was never a huge lover of colour or prints, and lately it feels like I’m drifting away from them completely), things that are not the right fit (I’m not a big fan of minis on myself, and although some work and I like them, I realised a while back I only need a few for the days I feel particularly good), and those I kind of like but never end up wearing (which proved to be the most challenging category, because I do love a lot of them).
The most unexpected discovery (and the one my friend Alina was talking about in her recent newsletter) was that, as I gradually moved my clothes over to the new house—leaving behind only a small, not particularly thought-through selection—I actually felt quite at ease coming up with new combinations I might never have considered before. Like most of us, I tend to lean on a few wardrobe heroes or staples that I wear on repeat, so this felt surprisingly freeing.
I remember reading about a woman who, while searching for something in her wardrobe, reached for an item on the top rail with one of those sticks with a hook (I admit to having owned one in the past), only for the rail to break and a heap of clothes to fall on top of her. That day, she decided not to buy anything for a year, which she said felt liberating—but then she got into bodybuilding (of all things) and ended up competing in those rather strange events where you oil yourself and strain your muscles for the judges. I guess if you have that compulsive streak, it will always find an outlet.
So here are some points I would consider when cleaning out the wardrobe, whether for a move or a seasonal clear out:
Let go of the things that are too small. If you’ve been clinging to the idea of losing that post-pregnancy weight for years, but aren’t actually approaching it in any considered way, chances are it won’t happen. As someone whose weight yo-yos a lot, I do have quite a few things in my wardrobe that only fit me once every few years, when I’m at my lowest weight, so I’ve let go of some pieces that are more an idea of myself I hold in my head than real outfits I will actually wear.
Also—don’t buy things that are too small, whether it’s on sale, at a sample sale or whatever else might tempt you. Most likely, they’ll just end up sitting in that category, waiting to be let go of a few years later.
Try everything on and see if the fit is right. If something feels off—let it go. Most likely, you will always reach for your favourite skirt over the one that rides up, pulls, or itches at the waist, however much you might like it.
If you haven’t worn something in over a year, consider parting with it—chances are you won’t wear it. Unless it has sentimental value or is a one-of-a-kind treasure, you might bring it out every few years for a special event. I have a Yves Klein dress from Old Celine, which I’ve maybe worn twice, but I will absolutely never sell it because it feels like a piece of fashion history.
If you tend to buy versions of the same thing, look at them and consider whether you really need all of them. For instance, I love satin tops and wool-silk trousers, and somehow I ended up with about six very similar satin tops and around eight pairs of trousers. Realistically, I will always reach for Phoebe Philo over Toteme, so I really shouldn’t have bought that one. It’s gone now. Same with trousers—keep a couple that fit you best, and I’m sure they will last you quite a while.
Generally, if you own pieces in the same category from brands with very different levels of quality, you will probably end up mostly wearing the better-quality ones over the high-street versions. High street is great and absolutely has its place in the world, allowing people to dress well on a budget, but if you also shop luxury brands, you probably don’t need that Zara piece. More often than not, it won’t last as well and will eventually end up in a pile for the charity shop.
And here are some looks I wore in my hazy state of mind in between carrying boxes:
BOOKS
Train Dreams by Denis Johnson - I’m prepping for another writing course, and one of the books on the reading list was this one. I had never heard of the author before, but it is an absolute gem—haunting, disturbing and utterly consuming. It tells the story of a tree feller in the north-west of America, set against the unfolding history of the country and the march of technological progress.
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