I discarded 40% of my wardrobe today, talking smack the whole time to the losers. I said stuff like:
– “You chafe my armpits and have to go.”
– “You require a slip and that’s bullshit. Thanks for your service.”
– “You are boxy and weird.”
– “You are doing my chest no favors.”
– “You are a Janet-Jackson-caliber wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen.”
– “You are a crutch for my ‘ugly’ days and must leave.”
– “You make me look like a prairie woman.”
– “Does polyester burn? Because you deserve to burn.”
I started The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up to figure out how the fuck someone managed to fill up 200 pages on “tidying,” then dupe people into buying it.
Then I realized I was hopelessly in love with the author, who seems like a fussy old lady but is actually a very fetching young Japanese woman. She’s all about keeping only useful, beloved objects in your home, and treating them with love. (A great summary of her beliefs is here.) Her sort of Shintoist, animism-infused beliefs annoy Christians (1, 2), which I find funny.
I decided to try it myself.
I hauled all of my clothes out of the closet/drawers and dumped them on the bed. I held each item up and determined if it “sparked joy.”
It was touchy-feely nonsense, but it worked. I got rid of 30-40% of my wardrobe in under an hour.
You should try it.
My problem is that I constantly buy “aspirational” garments. I hope I’m going to become the sort of person who likes:
– close fits
– sheath dresses
– maxi dresses
– did I mention colors?
– thongs — ugh
I wear mostly black. I wear A-line skirts and boot-cut jeans with tees, cardigans, and sneakers. I don’t like tight clothes. I don’t like wool. I don’t like to display my thighs. Even my undergarments are uninteresting.
It’s been alleged that I have a personality, but my clothing doesn’t express it. And when I try to force clothes upon myself with “personality,” I can’t bring myself to wear them.
Maybe I need a uniform imposed on me from above.
In which case, I’d like a purple one, please: