A fashionista friend of mine came around today for a catch up and I took her on a nineties to noughties journey through my bags of throw-out clothes.
I now feel so much better about relegating these clothes to the throw-out pile as she exclaimed her disgust over many of the things I was hanging on to from the late 90s. There is no way I’m going to be wearing those teeny midriff baring tops anymore. So many of the clothes in those four shopping bags are part of the old me.
I like to think that the ‘new me’ has more style. However I also think style is something that you gain with age and increased disposable income. My selections are infinitely better now than they were as a tarty little 19-year-old for whom short skirts, short tops and tight clothes on an even tighter budget were the order of the day. They are also better than those of the 25-year-old me who after returning from a year of travel was trying to get a professional wardrobe together whilst holding on to the last vestiges of her early 20s style.
Even in the past twelve months, my style has evolved further. I’m discovering skinny leg jeans with sneakers and cute tees (I think I’m trying to get this phase in before I get too old to pull it off). I’m also building on my fabulous frocks with some standouts that I’m convinced will be classics.
So with my friend opening my eyes to the horrors that were, I am now free of the little hoarder in me who says “you might want to wear it again” because NO, I won’t.
It’s 38 days until I move to LA and in preparation I am taking a fashion trip down sentimental lane.
I will freely admit to anyone that I am a hoarder. I won’t get rid of clothes, shoes or accessories because I come up with an excuse, such as:
I might fit into it when I lose weight one day
I might fit into it when I put on weight one day
It would make a great costume for a fancy dress party (that I never get invited to)
My mythical someday daughter will see me in a photo and wish I’d kept the outfit because it is suddenly retro cool again
It has a story such as “Oh, but I got this poncho in Bolivia from a little old lady in full Quechua dress at the market”
I even have some makeup that my aunt gave me when I was in early high school, and I still use it, on the occasion that I need some bright 80s eyeshadow.
I don’t know how long I’ll be in LA for, but I’m taking advantage of my current “clear it out, give it away” mentality to do a sweep of my wardrobe so there isn’t so much temptation to squeeze it into my luggage. So far so good. I’ve managed to part with four pairs of shoes, a handbag, a long formal dress, a suit, a skirt, two hats, a scarf and a few belts. And that was just to one friend.
I’m setting aside more things for my 10 year old cousin (who already has a size 8 foot and will soon fit into my size nines) and her dress up box. Mum has already said that she’ll have whatever is left over.
So while people are getting excited as to what they might be able to find in my wardrobe, the sad news for them is that I will still be taking the best and most loved things with me. There will always be room in my luggage for my dress of dresses, the incredible multi-coloured heels, my white hat, my motorcycle handbag, silver crysacolla ring from Mexico and the Bolivian poncho.
This hoarder’s going to hit LA and commit a major fashion faux pas, but what the heck!