I had a busy day today.
I began the de cluttering of my wardrobe. Of course, it was meant to be a swift and merciless cull! Out with the sizes/styles/colours that have hung forlornly on bent wire hangers, misshapen and twisted due to multiple garments all vying for a place to wait for their fate to be decided.
I began the de cluttering of my wardrobe. Of course, it was meant to be a swift and merciless cull! Out with the sizes/styles/colours that have hung forlornly on bent wire hangers, misshapen and twisted due to multiple garments all vying for a place to wait for their fate to be decided.
I was determined to remove nostalgia from the equation. What was
the Equation? Simple:
Fit + functionality + fashion freedom = KEEP
I figured 30 minutes was enough time to decide on what was KEEP and what was GO.
TWO hours later..........
I am sitting on the floor of my modestly proportioned walk in robe, cocooned in cotton, linen, chiffon, sequence, polyester, leather, silk and materials of dubious descriptions! My clothing Tower of Babel is leaning and lurching towards the door, but I don’t seem to have relegated one item to the GO pile that currently resides nonexistent outside the door.
Who knew that clothes and shoes could speak so eloquently? They are the fashion whisperers, drawing me into nostalgia and memory of people and places, events and celebrations.
Fit + functionality + fashion freedom = KEEP
I figured 30 minutes was enough time to decide on what was KEEP and what was GO.
TWO hours later..........
I am sitting on the floor of my modestly proportioned walk in robe, cocooned in cotton, linen, chiffon, sequence, polyester, leather, silk and materials of dubious descriptions! My clothing Tower of Babel is leaning and lurching towards the door, but I don’t seem to have relegated one item to the GO pile that currently resides nonexistent outside the door.
Who knew that clothes and shoes could speak so eloquently? They are the fashion whisperers, drawing me into nostalgia and memory of people and places, events and celebrations.
The dress I wore when I held my eldest grandson for the
first time, a little black number that I wore to a dear friends 60th birthday
dinner, the holiday easy fold and pack shirts and pants, and "throws"
for cooler tropical nights, the “sisterhood of writing" trousers, the
corporate attire, the lazy Sunday lunching outfits, the “I have to have it,
it’s a bargain skirt, (a size too small, but one day”!)
There were dresses, blouses, shirts, jackets and pants of
every length and design. They paid homage to the eclectic, each a statement
about some aspect of me. The boho, the casual, the traveller, the glamour, the
varying sizes of my life. Colour features heavily, but I now see a sea of black
invading the nooks and crannies of my wardrobe. I am stunned at some of my
choices! What was I thinking, (or NOT thinking).
I am shocked how the sight, touch and smell of some of them evoke
such massive emotions. The gorgeous silk
and crystal dress I wore to my first born's wedding, the after five gown I wore
to my middle sons Air Force "wings
" ceremony, the colourful caftan I wore to my youngest sons funeral.
Fabric feelings. Full and fertile.
As the clothes share their stories and memories and jostle
in that small space to get my attention, pleading, "not me, not me, I am
still worthwhile, valuable", I ponder on this phenomenon.
Why have I clung to some of these items? What did they bring
into my life, albeit fleetingly, that now weighs so heavily in my decision-making?
KEEP or GO?
The answer comes to
me eventually and it seems so obvious.
They are my
emotional diary, in a closet.
They are the physical manifestations of my emotional
rollercoaster and I am OK with that......
I managed to allocate two Ikea blue bags to go to the OP
Shop tomorrow. These were mainly shoes. Seems shoes and I are less nostalgic!
As for the rest, I have called an armistice.
I will re assess in the New Year, give myself time to see
what’s at the post Xmas sales!
