The great wardrobe awakening

About once a season or so I have a bit of a wardrobe clean out whereby I hiff out a few impulse purchases, sell them on Trademe, usually to pay for something else I've already laybuyed that I shouldn't have, often an impulse purchase (although the last time I did it for the Ginger & Smart bag was such a good idea!), and round and round we go.

I love collecting clothes and shoes and handbags, not just for the hell of it mind ...OK, a little bit for the hell of it ... but mostly I collect them for love. But, no matter often what I collect, or how much stuff is jammed into my wardrobe, I still only wear or use a small capsule of stuff. One handbag, a couple of base layers, jeans, a couple of favourite cardys, only a few pairs of shoes, which are my favourites because they're the best. Ultimately, when it comes down to it, for every dozen items I add to my wardrobe, perhaps only 3 should be there.

We're blaming an article I read in Flair magazine called What was I thinking? (which I tore out, kept and carry in my handbag) for all this by the way. Maybe I should type it out for you all to read too? (obviously with credit given where credit is due so I don't nailed for whatever it is that they nail you for when you're perceived to have ripped something off).

So, with my soon to be zero income and a new budget in mind, I eyed my wardrobe narrowly a few days ago and made a brutal plan. Anything not, or barely, worn the preceding season (as in, winter clothes not touched this winter, or worn once and only because everything else was in the washing, or summer clothes not touched last summer on the same basis), regardless of my passion for it (yes, the Moochi shrug is fabulous and snuggly and really different and I love it as much now as I did the day I bought it, but when did I last wear it?) The rule is pretty simple - no stopping to think, no stopping to sob or snuggle or negotiate - have I worn it? No? It's gone. There are only two piles - yes and no. No middle pile for 'I'll wear it next season, I promise'. Everything goes on Trademe. Absolutely everything. I set good buy nows to get them hopefully gone quickly at that price, and otherwise, $5 no reserve so that I get something back, as well as clutter out of my wardrobe. This goes for shoes too. Why hoard them? If I don't wear them, I don't wear them. They're just taking up space. No point in that. And seriously, am I likely to wear extremely pointy kitten heels which are half a size too big (but very cool you have to understand) any more chasing No.9 around the house and walking the dogs than I do now, when I haven't worn them for 2 years? Maybe more? No. I got $30 bucks back on them by the way, which isn't too bad. I paid $80 on sale and wore them for a season or so that first year. $30 is better than no $ the way I see it, and they weren't giving me anything back gathering dust, that's for sure.

Anyway, that half done (turns out I have a lot of stuff ... I just keep finding it), I started in on phase two, which did involve a little bit of a cry over having about a dozen things left in my wardrobe. OK, no, I didn't cry, because all the stuff left is my favourites, but I'm trying to seem less shallow ...

Phase two is this - look at what is left, and think, very carefully, about why it is left. Why do I love it so?

How come the wicked Sabine merino top with the gorgeous vintage flower detail around the neck that I bought less than a year ago is sitting in the see ya later pile, and yet the very battered, three year old Moochi long sleeved black tee that will definitely do another season or two is sitting in my wardrobe looking like it's barely survived terrible things that it doesn't want to talk about, ever? What has it got that the Sabine top, and my fifty five million other tops hasn't? And, when it dies, am I going to want it back again? Am I going to turn Auckland upside down trying to find it, and probably contact Moochi to see if there is any chance on earth they have back-stock sitting in a warehouse somewhere that they will be prepared to sell me? Yes. Yes, I am. Go figure. Why are the Diesel sneakers sitting unloved in a corner, when the Triton ones are falling apart at the seams? Why is the chocolate-marl Moochi shrug on a shelf because I'll definitely wear it, but never do, and yet my butter-yellow pashmina scarf has barely come off all winter? Why is the grey Moochi cardy with the wear-it-so-many-ways neckline sitting dejected in the corner good as new, but the beigy Vanilla Ink one with the spotty satin hood lining, and the reddy hounds-tooth knit Widdess one are heading to knackered?

Oh, and of course, are the $380 shoes I bought from Scarpa on sale really a great thing to own when I've worn them once or twice in the last three years because they're actually a weird shade of brown and go with absolutely nothing I own, or even want to own? Uh, no. The silver ones that were about $300 that I bought for a wedding four years ago, have worn twice since, and my feet still cringe all these years later when they remember the pain they were in while encased in said shoes? Not so much.

Can I afford to make these gaffs from now on? Definitely not.

Time will tell if I really have learned my lesson and am a new me, but here's hoping that it'll stick. In the meantime I'm taking my lesson ... ummm ... shopping. Only a little bit of shopping mind, the rest is going to savings. I decided that it would be a good idea to perhaps replace that Moochi black top, so I have another when the original claps out, from the proceeds of all my sales, and the balance is being put aside for when I need to get a couple more bits of maternity clothes to get me through the end of my prenancy. And, as for my shopping from here? Hopefully the new me sticks to the plan. Obviously, I won't hold my breath, because this is me we're talking about and that would just be silly ... but you never do know.

(This nesty, organisy thing is no joke by the way - I'll tell you that for free)