I have been pursued recently by a need to simplify my life. The weight of my neglected, superfluous possessions hangs in my subconscious, following me around like a clingy goth kid at a Cure concert.
Much of this feeling is, I’m sure, due to having a new baby in our home, which is like a magnet for STUFF. Because babies need clothes, and blankets, and toys, and chairs, and play mats and and and… right? Don’t they? From the quantity of baby crap available you’d think the average nursery was the size of a small aircraft hangar.
But I digress. It’s not really about the monkey’s things. It’s about mine. (Well, and the Other Half’s, but let’s tackle one issue at a time.) Particularly my clothes.
Now, I’m not a clothes horse, not a fashion victim. My “seasonal” shopping indulgences max out at 5 or 6 items from VV. I’ve never been able to afford more, plus it’s just ridiculous to buy a bunch of cheap crappy garments every season rather than having fewer things that will last years without falling apart or going out of fashion.
But still, I end up having lots of clothes loitering in the shadows of my closets and drawers that I almost never wear and yet haven’t been able to get rid of.
I know the old rule; if you haven’t worn it in the last year (some say 6 months but I allow a full year, since we have four seasons here), pitch it. But given that I’ve spent the last year being either pregnant or post-partum and am just now fitting into my pre-prego jeans (and only some shirts), I can’t really follow that. So I have to actually assess each item individually. And let me tell ya, mommy-brain is not a good tool for this task.
Let’s just look at what I have to deal with, shall we?
Granted, it’s not all mine, but still. Of all the clothes in there that are mine, it’s been at least a year since I’ve worn most. And yet whenever I pull something out to toss it it looks up at me with the equivalent of sad puppy dog eyes as if to say “we had some good times, you can’t just throw that away!” and I think I’ll just keep it for one more season and wedge it back in amongst it’s companions in neglect.
So you can see where this ends; right where it started. Which is why I have a bunch of ratty sweaters and shirts that will never fit again. And then there’s the stuff that’s not good enough to donate to VV (!) that I just can’t throw away because well, it’s fabric; there must be some use for it yet!
I just have be strong. Stronger than the 12 year old silk sweater with moth holes and sketchy cardigan conversion job. Stronger than the microfleece jacket that’s always been too short. Stronger even than the retro black and kelly green zip-up whose zipper broke 5 years ago and hasn’t been worn since.
Kate Moss once famously said “nothing tastes as good as skinny feels” and although I can’t relate literally (having never been skinny and having a serious soft spot for good food) I’m sure there’s a parallel having to do with sentiment and closet space.
I’ll get to it tomorrow, I swear.