So today was my day off work and I was in a bit of a pickle.
My car chucked a fit and now won’t start, so that’s super fun and cute, and I left my debit card in my friend’s wallet over the weekend like a total doofus.
I had no access to transportation or money, which meant that unless I wanted to catch a bus/tram/train (I did not want to catch a bus/tram/train) I was stuck in the confines of my apartment. You know, like a prisoner but with access to about 25 packets of Mie Goreng and way, way too many face products.
I write this with my nose and forehead covered in seaweed goo. Said goo promises to be an “extreme detoxifier” but I’m sure we can all agree it’s just tinted Vasoline that I wasted yet another $30 on. Le sigh.
Anyway, the problem with me being an apartment prisoner today was that I have the tendency to A) get very bored very easily, B) come up with rather random ideas and C) behave extremely impulsively on them.
So, of course, I decided at about 11am that I should throw half of my clothes away. Despite only moving in 14 months ago, and being the least sentimental human on the planet, I realised I had accumulated a ridiculous amount of clothes I never even wear. My boyfriend also threatened to break up with me unless I got my floordrobe under control (not really, but another fortnight and he’d probably be organising for the locks to be changed).
When it came to my wardrobe, there was no order to anything. At all. I started to think someone was sneaking in and stealing all my undies… that a pesky, stealthy Cotton On thief was on the loose while I was forced to go commando more often than I’d like to admit.
I put on a Spotify playlist and dove in head-first. I can happily confirm that numerous pairs of underwear were retrieved from the abyss and returned to their home.
This was my criteria for deciding whether something would make the cut or if it would be binned:
Have I worn it in the last 12 months?
Do I feel good in it?
If something didn’t get two ‘yes’ responses, it was binned, baby, BINNED. My “bin group” resembled a mountain within an hour, which I then divided into SELL, DONATE and TRASH piles.
Honestly, I had no idea how much crap I owned until I sifted through each t-shirt, skirt, and hoodie one by one. Hours later I’m still reeling from how much I got rid of and how many spare coat-hangers I now have. I feel light and fuzzy and free. My friends are in serious danger of me praising the glory of minimalism and Marie Kondo on our next brunch date.
I got rid of 38 things all up. I know. It’s a touch disturbing that I could own so much and it just… sat there… for over a year while others in need went without. It’s my new mission to be more diligent with this kind of stuff.
The other thing that really hit home from this whole experience is that of the things that didn’t pass my criteria, the vast majority fell into a ‘fast fashion’ group; things I’d bought from crappy online boutiques on a whim. They were all from cheap stores and, despite being worn a handful of times each, looked bloody exhausted. When things had a price tag between $10-$50, it showed. Almost everything in this price range ended up being ditched from my wardrobe. But the stuff I’d spent that little bit extra on – the stuff in the $100-$200 range? That stuff is still in my wardrobe.
I want to, wherever possible, stop indulging in fast fashion this year. Sure, buying more expensive stuff is a commitment that’s not accessible to everyone – but it’s also more ethical and the longevity in each piece will pay off in the future. Because I’m not exactly rolling around in fat stacks I’m going to try to get into Ebay more; the idea of recycling great clothes just sounds SO GOOD.
I will keep y’all updated on how this teeny tiny project goes.
Have you guys ever done something similar and felt all sparkly and liberated and totally guilty for being such a clothes hog? Talk to me in the comments xxxx