the great closet cleanout – part 1

DECLUTTERING MY CLOSET – AND OTHER HORROR STORIES

Welcome to the Great Closest Cleanout – my personal journey into the heart of wardrobe minimalism (or let’s be honest just ‘less’). If you’ve ever looked at your wardrobe and felt it’s a breath away from a fashion avalanche, then join the club! In the upcoming months, I’m the guinea pig, your style sherpa, and clutter-clearing comrade, all wrapped up into one.

I’m documenting my journey here on my blog and also on Instagram. Fancy following along? You can find me at @girlseeksbeach

Here’s what’s on the cards: I’m whittling down my wardrobe to the essentials, aiming for a level of simplicity that’d get a nod from the queen of declutter herself, Marie Kondo. This series is all about the honest spills, thrills, and “Why do I even own this?” sort of revelations. Expect raw reflections, actionable advice, and perhaps a couple of style slip-ups for good measure (because isn’t the trip worth a tiny tumble?).

Armed with my garment steamer and a stack of donation bags, I’m embarking on the ultimate wardrobe declutter. It’s a journey to rediscover the joy of easily finding my favourite shirt and that perfect outfit – no search party required. Want to see how I tackle the great cull?

The Why Behind the Wardrobe

Embarking on this journey wasn’t a decision I took lightly. Each glance at my closet heaving with a graveyard of clothes has become a source of stress rather than joy. The overwhelming choice paradoxically left me feeling like I had nothing to wear. But more than that – the guilt. Oh, it’s been a constant companion – guilt over unworn items, ill-fitting impulse buys, and the sheer volume of it all.

But here’s the thing: I yearn for simplicity. I dream of a closet that looks like the ones I follow on IG, where every item is a well-fitting friend, and decision overwhelm becomes a thing of the past. I imagine a life where I’m ready for a spur-of-the-moment lunch, an impromptu work event, or a last-minute trip without the dreaded ‘over-packing panic.’

So, with a determined vision, I’m diving into my self-imposed Capsule Closet Chronicles project. I’ll take you along with me as I attempt to declutter a cluttered wardrobe and, hopefully, find simplicity and style on the other side.

Unpacking the Why: More than Just a Closet Clean-Up

As I began the first phase of my Capsule Closet journey, I was braced for a tidal wave of textiles — but to my surprise, the flood was more of a steady stream. It wasn’t the quantity that left me agape; it was the realisation that my wardrobe had unwittingly become an homage to black. I adore black, it’s my safe haven of style, but confronted with a sea of monochrome, I felt a twinge of melancholy befitting a Victorian-era widow. It wasn’t just the hue that caught my eye but the uniformity of comfort over style — an armada of sweat shirts stood testament to my comfort-first ethos (spoiler alert: never getting rid of the sweat shirts!).

Within this very much ‘black is the new black’ assembly line, sweatshirts stood proud, a collection I cherish and will never apologise for! The excess here wasn’t a shock; it was an affirmation of my love for comfort (and secret wish to make sweat shirts fashionable for all occasions).

Nestled among my work-from-home essentials, a collection of scarcely-worn office outfits linger. Having embraced the WFH lifestyle with no intention of turning back, the formality they represent is no longer relevant for my daily life.

The dilemma isn’t just about parting with a piece of my past; it’s the weight of what I’ve spent on them. So, for now, they hang there—a silent ode to a work life I no longer lead—as I continue to tap away in my beloved sweatshirts and slippers.

Oh, and let’s not forget about my old Roots sweater. That bad boy is staying put — it’s like a big bear hug from my Canadian roots (pun intended). Then there’s the ‘Banff 86’ tee I snagged on a thrift store run with my cousin. Sure, it’s just collecting dust now, but it’s like a time machine back to laughing with all the shenanigans we got up to in those old red tees. It’s never going to see the light of day again, but ditching it? Nope, that’s a hard pass. It’s the fabric equivalent of a family photo.

So, what’s the big takeaway from all this rummaging and reminiscing?

It’s that this project to declutter my wardrobe isn’t just about freeing up closet space. It’s about the stories (sometimes the ones we tell ourselves) attached to every piece. Like, why do we hang onto a dress that’s more ‘wishful thinking’ than ‘wearable’? Or that fancy job wardrobe for an office work life that is no more? I’m starting to think that figuring out that puzzle is way more about what’s going on in my head than what’s hanging in my closet.

The Great “Unsure” Pile Standoff

This is the corner where the “unsure” pile lies. It’s a collection that screams, “Why do I still have you?” while my heart whispers back, “But I can’t let you go.” It’s the wardrobe equivalent of old love letters you stumble upon – you know you should probably toss them out, but they’re just too full of ‘what ifs’.

Take, for example, the blouse that promised a Parisian chic vibe in the change room but turned out to be more ‘Little House on the Prairie’ than ‘City of Lights’ in the harsh light of day. Every time I reach for it, I’m torn between feeling like a lost character from a period drama and holding onto the dream that one day, those floofy sleeves won’t make me feel like I’m a bat about to flap away into the night.

The criteria for this pile’s fate? A little self-interrogation. I ask myself, “How do you really feel wearing this?” – not in some fantasy version of life where I’m suddenly ten pounds lighter or have developed an affinity for lace and ruffles. “Have you worn it lately, and did it spark joy or dread?” And the all-too-telling, “What miracle are you waiting for to make this piece work?”

No hidden gems in this pile, just the stark reality that I might be overly optimistic of change, if not a bit delusional. There’s a hope that maybe, just maybe, I’ll wake up tomorrow and all the clothes in the ‘maybe’ pile will fit like they were tailor-made for me. Or that the style gods will decree floofy sleeves as the next big thing, and I’ll be ahead of the curve instead of drowning in it.

Then there’s the “perfect” jeans dilemma that I loved when I bought them. Alas, they hug a tad too tightly, suggesting a silhouette that’s more fantasy than fact. Every time I consider parting with them, my optimism kicks in, whispering sweet nothings about future weight loss and the return of my very fashionable denim glory days.

This “unsure” pile isn’t just a mountain of maybes; it’s a treasure trove of self-delusions and style aspirations. And as I sort through it, it’s becoming clear that my closet isn’t the only thing that needs decluttering – my expectations need a bit of a tidy-up, too.

Phase 1: The Big Reveal

Uncovering the Scope

My mission was simple: drag everything out into the open. No more dark corners of my closet where T-shirts could hide, no drawer left unturned. The goal? Full wardrobe transparency. So I commandeered the spare room and got to work, transforming it into the space for my great clothing confession.

Mount Clothes-more

The process was a bit like an archeological dig, minus the dirt but with all the discovery. Hangers clattered to the floor, drawers emptied in a cascade of cotton and denim, and soon, my mountain of attire covered the spare bed. The scene was a little overwhelming — a snapshot of my personal taste in all its monochromatic glory. 

Black is the New Black

I had every intention of documenting each piece but quickly realised that might be a Herculean task. Instead, I turned to simply tallying up those items that seemed to multiply like fashion-forward rabbits — specifically, my black attire. Turns out, I own enough black pants to outfit a small theatre troupe and enough black tops to mourn for centuries.

Multiples in Every Shade: The Perfect Fit

I’ve always struggled to find pants that fit my curvy frame. Where are my fellow ladies who understand the pant-shopping challenge, the quest not to compromise on fit?

If you’re like me, you know this pain too well. And you know the triumph when the stars align with a great fit. When I stumbled across a pair of these perfectly fitting, super comfy pants from my beloved Target (in black, of course), I went back and did what we all do: bought them in every colour. Now, those four pairs bring a pop of variety to my wardrobe, a small celebration of comfort and a break from the black. They were firmly placed in the ‘keep’ pile. 

Next Steps and Anticipation

By the end of Phase 1, I was antsy to start sorting. My determination had only grown, and the urge to see my clothes in neatly arranged categories was almost palpable. I wanted to see the physical representation of my style evolution — or, more accurately, my style consistency.

Phase 2: should it stay or should it go?

My keep pile was a sanctuary of certainties, a collection where every piece had earned its place. The ‘discard’ pile, however, was a battleground of “what-ifs” and second-guessing. I mean, who hasn’t been haunted by the ghost of Perfect Occasions Past, right?

I found myself justifying pieces I had hardly worn with scenarios that seemed more fiction than future. Like that sleek, almost-new blouse – a fashion phantom of my “Parisian dreams” or “Pioneer aspirations,” depending on the day. For the 50th time in one day I find myself asking “Why do I keep clothes I’ve never really worn?” The ‘unsure’ pile grew as a testament to my indecision and impulse buying.

The decision-making process was a balancing act between heartstrings and practicality. My methodology? If it hadn’t been worn in over a year, it had to fight for its place. But I carved out exemptions for those timeless pieces that I don’t have a need to wear daily but I can safely say are “essential” – like my Little Black Dress or my very stylish (albeit also hardly worn) black leather motorcycle jacket.

Interestingly, this phase was as freeing as it was guilt-inducing. The ‘unsure’ pile was particularly challenging, inducing a mental tug-of-war over items like the cute but neglected H&M zip-up that never made it out the door for my daily walks, but seemed to have endless reasons why it should be kept. 

As I sorted, there was a growing sense of achievement and an inkling of the closet clarity that lay ahead. Even amidst the inner debates and occasional self-reproach, I found pieces that I was sure would have a new life in my revamped wardrobe.

This exercise also revealed a pattern in my purchasing habits – a reality check on my “aspirational style” versus my true, comfortable self. It turns out I have a firm style identity, but I’ve been clinging to a style that I’ve never fully embraced. Note to self: “Parisian chic” is a mindset, not just a wardrobe choice.

Finishing up, I faced sorted piles and a lot of uncertainty. The ‘unsure’ pile was still there, a mix of maybes and wishful thinking. I’ll tackle that after a break; a fresh look might make the decisions easier.

A Tale of Too Many Clothes

Ever wonder what it looks like when a middle-aged woman dives into her closet for a major clear-out? It’s all happening on my Instagram. I’m keeping it real with reels on the good, the bad, and the (way too much) black in my wardrobe. Come and join in the fun and laughs on the old ‘gram: @girlseeksbeach