"To me she's married, not unto my clothes"*
Today Chad and I embarked on a major undertaking and went through our clothes and came up with seven garbage bags to get rid of. I'd say we went through our closets, but our (or at least my) clothes situation is so out of control that much of what I own never makes it to a closet. I consider clothes that are sitting in a laundry basket instead of on the dining room table as "put away." (In my defense, we do have very small closets, but I can only spread that defense so far).
I've always loved clothes, and owned many more than I need. As with so many of my behaviors and attitudes, my approach to clothes was heavily influenced by my mother. I've always lived with her quantity over quality clothes philosophy. Simply put, I love having lots of cheap clothes. Okay, the clothes don't have to be cheap, and as I get older, I have been discovering the pleasures of clothes made with quality fabrics. But I really love shopping for clothes (now also via the internet), and I crave variety and newness, so cheap clothes are generally the best way for me to meet all my desires. For the most part, I'm not really knowledgeable of or excited by labels (unless Target brands count) so I don't need to spend money for designer prestige.
Quality aside, I do realize that there is a dark side to cheap clothes, and that there are environmental and workers' rights issues involved in the mass production of the cheap clothing industry that I support. I am a long way from reconciling my clothes addiction with my values, and my desire for something cute to wear usually trumps any other considerations.
So I can usually ignore the damage that my shopping habits are doing to the environment, but when I can't get to our bed because my path is blocked by clothes, I know it's time to do something. Some of my clothes must go! This is always an emotionally-fraught process for me. Even though I love buying new clothes, I hate getting rid of old ones. I know it's hard for some people to understand this, but I am very sentimental about my clothes. (Although I guess I can't be the only one who feels this way or Nora Ephron's play "Love, Loss, and What I Wore"--which I actually have never seen or read--wouldn't be a hit). Some things I get attached to because of who gave it to me, or because I bought it on vacation, or what I did when I wore it. It took me years to get rid of clothes I knew I would never wear again (including some pretty ugly oversized sweaters) simply because I had bought them with my mom. (And I will admit that I'm not above hanging on to an older skirt or two that no longer fits just to prove to myself that I used to weigh more).
While I don't want to get rid of many of my clothing items because of the memories attached to them, other things I don't want to get rid of because of the hopes or aspirations they represent. "Maybe I will go to some snazzy, sexy dinner where I can where this snazzy, sexy, black dress!" Or "Maybe someday I will want to dress like a professional and will need an actual dress shirt." Letting go of those fantasies of what I could or might be, or having faith that I will be able to come up with an appropriate outfit if those daydreams come true, is hard.
I think most women also struggle with the "but this may come back in style" rationale for holding on to clothes. And, sometimes frustratingly, this is true. I now face the danger of shopping at vintage stores and finding clothing styles that I originally owned in high school and college. I also have the additional fear that I might get rid of an outfit that I could use as a costume. At least three times I've been able to come up with costumes from little-used entries of my own wardrobe.
I am embarrassed by how obsessed I am with my clothes and I feel shallow because of it. But my clothes aren't just about my compulsion to shop or to wear cute things. My clothes represent who I've been and who I want to me (so that makes me more self-obsessed than shallow). So while getting rid of clutter (and being able to get to the bed) feels really good and freeing, getting rid of clothes also always feels like a loss. Although that pain is quickly forgotten when I buy something new. Ah, the cycle of life.
*from "The Taming of the Shrew." I discovered this in high school while looking for a quote on marriage for a play I was writing. It's probably the only Shakespeare I know besides "To be or not to be." And "The Taming of the Shrew" is the only full-production Shakespeare play I've ever been in.
I've always loved clothes, and owned many more than I need. As with so many of my behaviors and attitudes, my approach to clothes was heavily influenced by my mother. I've always lived with her quantity over quality clothes philosophy. Simply put, I love having lots of cheap clothes. Okay, the clothes don't have to be cheap, and as I get older, I have been discovering the pleasures of clothes made with quality fabrics. But I really love shopping for clothes (now also via the internet), and I crave variety and newness, so cheap clothes are generally the best way for me to meet all my desires. For the most part, I'm not really knowledgeable of or excited by labels (unless Target brands count) so I don't need to spend money for designer prestige.
Quality aside, I do realize that there is a dark side to cheap clothes, and that there are environmental and workers' rights issues involved in the mass production of the cheap clothing industry that I support. I am a long way from reconciling my clothes addiction with my values, and my desire for something cute to wear usually trumps any other considerations.
So I can usually ignore the damage that my shopping habits are doing to the environment, but when I can't get to our bed because my path is blocked by clothes, I know it's time to do something. Some of my clothes must go! This is always an emotionally-fraught process for me. Even though I love buying new clothes, I hate getting rid of old ones. I know it's hard for some people to understand this, but I am very sentimental about my clothes. (Although I guess I can't be the only one who feels this way or Nora Ephron's play "Love, Loss, and What I Wore"--which I actually have never seen or read--wouldn't be a hit). Some things I get attached to because of who gave it to me, or because I bought it on vacation, or what I did when I wore it. It took me years to get rid of clothes I knew I would never wear again (including some pretty ugly oversized sweaters) simply because I had bought them with my mom. (And I will admit that I'm not above hanging on to an older skirt or two that no longer fits just to prove to myself that I used to weigh more).
While I don't want to get rid of many of my clothing items because of the memories attached to them, other things I don't want to get rid of because of the hopes or aspirations they represent. "Maybe I will go to some snazzy, sexy dinner where I can where this snazzy, sexy, black dress!" Or "Maybe someday I will want to dress like a professional and will need an actual dress shirt." Letting go of those fantasies of what I could or might be, or having faith that I will be able to come up with an appropriate outfit if those daydreams come true, is hard.
I think most women also struggle with the "but this may come back in style" rationale for holding on to clothes. And, sometimes frustratingly, this is true. I now face the danger of shopping at vintage stores and finding clothing styles that I originally owned in high school and college. I also have the additional fear that I might get rid of an outfit that I could use as a costume. At least three times I've been able to come up with costumes from little-used entries of my own wardrobe.
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| Exhibit A: 80's California girl Clare from "Broken Hill" |
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| Exhibit B: Peacenik #2 from "Drum Circle Jerk" |
*from "The Taming of the Shrew." I discovered this in high school while looking for a quote on marriage for a play I was writing. It's probably the only Shakespeare I know besides "To be or not to be." And "The Taming of the Shrew" is the only full-production Shakespeare play I've ever been in.
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