There is something very, very liberating about cleaning out your wardrobe. Of course, for me i employ the term 'wardrobe' figuratively as i don't actually have one, but the sentiment still stands. Going through your clothes, sorting them out, and deciding what to keep and what to throw away is an act of supreme freedom.
As i watch my style mature and my tastes evolve i can't help but go through a process of, well (forgive me for the darwinian references), natural selection. In an act of clear, but not unkind, ruthlessness I have 5 garbage bags full of clothes waiting to be sent to the nearest charity shop. These clothes are things that I've either grown out of but never threw out, I haven't worn in over 6 months, and that i have never worn and frankly should never have bought. Shoes, handbags, some jewellery and various other things have also been relegated to the bags. As you can see, i mean business.
This process of clearing out has two main culprits. The first is clear - lack of space. My room is very small. You've all seen harry potter, right? Well, imagine the cupboard under the stairs and you've basically got the size of my living space. Don't get me wrong, i absolutely love my room, i've plasted every inch with magazine cut outs, it's filled with all my creature comforts and loves - floor to ceiling stacks of books, magazines and newspaper cutouts, my temperamental record player, old mirrors, a beautiful wire day bed and all my lovely clothes. Although there isn't much floor space it is wholly me, and i wouldn't relinquish it for the world.
The problem is, though, that my clothes have no home. They are piled up on my dresser, in corners of my room, over the backs of my desk chair and bed posts. Sacrilege, i can hear you all breathing, letting your beautiful clothes sit in musty piles on the floor to gather dust. I totally agree. I hate myself for letting my clothes situation get to that state. Which is why i recently invested in a tasteful, if very small wardrobe from Ikea in which to hang up (oh, the joys of coat-hangers that a girl living a lifetime of drawers can feel!) my clothes.
The size means, though, that some stuff has had to go.
Necessary, if a little cruel. I bid farewell to everything that didn't fit, everything i hadn't worn in ages, everything that i have never worn and should never have bought. a couple of bags were filled up, and the pile of clothes dumped on my bed was looking considerably, if not remarkably lighter.
The second reason for the clear out was, though, a little more personal - my steps towards 'capsule-ising' my wardrobe. My search for the 'french wardrobe', filled with quality basics with classic design twists and quirks with a few pieces on trend and an army of adjustable and mixable separates has been fore-frunt in my fashion mind for a long time now. My style used to be temperamental and costumey, and thought that suited a girl of 16 and 17, dramatic and passionate to a fault, i find my more matured 18 year old self (oh, how much hindsight i have, she says sarcastically, is a little different. A little wiser perhaps, with less self-consciousness and more acceptance of my style, body and personality. I no longer feel the need to wear some of my more crazier get ups, and though they served me well as a rowdy youthquaker (if i do say so myself) i'm no longer that girl. Let's just say that drinking vodka from the bottle no longer interests me, i'd rather have it served shaken not stirred in a martini glass if you please...
So i went through my wardrobe with a critical eye, looking at the clothes that littered my room and sprung out of my chest of drawers to see what no longer had a place in my life. musty 90s floral skirts when i went through my 'hipster phase' were placed on that pile, as were lacy overshirts and a host of 1950s style separates including 2 aprons (i always loved dressing as victorian girls with white smocks and an apron, don't ask me why!). A grandma-esque beaded cardigan is searching for a new, loving owner at my local charity shop, as are several pairs of converse shoes (i kept one for sport), peep-toe bow adorned suede flats and a pair of floral embellished gumboots. Gone are my many short skirts from 2 years ago that i never wear, and now that i have discovered the glamour of long skirts in day time probably never will again. Lots of ill-fitting cardigans, ripped tights (hello, my alice dellal obsession), waistcoats, peasant tops and shorts are also in garbage bags in my living room.
I suppose it comes with the realisation that to pay homage to your favourite time periods and decades you don't have to dress head to toe in their styles. For years i used to completely replicate a 1920s flapper girl or 1930s heiress at a shooting party. And while i still loooove that era and the way they dressed, the cut of the clothes and the shape of the accessories, i know now that to show your appreciation and respect you don't have to done a cloche hat, too.
Though perhaps in a few years i will regret giving this stuff away, i think that the benefits for my state of mind are greater. I gain a more free-flowing space in my room, and my clothes have been given a loving home. I feel a little more grown up with a wardrobe in my room, a little less of a child... As does my sartorial wardrobe, with the gladrags of my (relative) youth (i know it was only 1-2 years ago, but i have changed an awful lot in that time) gone i feel lighter, less burdened, more free to pursue my current interests and stock up my wardrobe with the clothes that i want to wear now.
I also feel, and i did not have this same feeling with the various styles and get ups of other years that this idea of 'french dressing' in name, if not in actual style, is one that is here with me to stay. I feel very comfortable and at ease in my trench coat, in my breton tops, in my ballet flats and ripped jeans and tapered pants and full skirts. I feel like i am no longer seeking attention in the way i dress, i just am.
And that feeling is simply marvelous.
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