I don’t throw things away.
It always surprises people when I find a postcard they wrote me 5 years ago or a picture from college. I really don’t get rid of anything. And unfortunately that extends to clothing.
As someone who’s perpetually deal-obsessed and has always been surrounded by people who love accumulating clothes, I’ve found I’ve hoarded a regional distribution center’s worth of clothing.
*extended soliloquy about using clothing to sublimate years of stifled sexuality and identity issues something something okay good the boring part’s over*
The result is way too many Abercrombie polos, flannel shirts, tanktops, heavy jackets (great for those chill 70 degree LA nights) and dress shirts (for all those office jobs I go to).
The good thing is that I’m a master of resale and love the keep the churn going. The bad thing is that I have a photographic memory of every outfit and a mental museum of “oh remember the Christmas party I wore that jacket to?!”
And therein lies the problem – memories shouldn’t translate into real life, real life should translate into memories. I can’t be nostalgic for a dinner that’s long since been composted just because I wore a certain pair of jeans there, and I don’t need to slowly acquire storage units just to accommodate an overflowing closet.
An ideal wardrobe is churned and worn constantly, and you have some legacy pieces (Prada boots) that you wear the hell out of, fix them up, and wear them again.
So I’ve undertaken what’s been, thus far, a semi-crippling task – inventorying a decade of clothing into stuff I can sell, stuff I can donate, and stuff I can keep.
Such a charmed life! But for years of gift giving, I always just asked for clothes or the means to purchase clothes. I don’t have the latest PlayStation or Nintendo Sybian or whatever the kids are using these days. I do, on the other hand, have a Polo collection that could cripple a country club.
Yet I realized I was constantly wearing and re-wearing the same stuff, and just in different permutations. Black dress shirt. Black pants. Sweats. Shorts. T-shirts. A few different dress shirts. Jacket. No real surprises, and I look as silly in streetwear as I do in a suit.
Are people going to be wearing Off-White belts in 5 years? Probably not, and by the time they come back around your dirty rental car seatbelt leftover isn’t gonna look good compared to a brand new holographic pantsholder from streetwear brand du jour.
But at this point, it’s anything goes. Baggy and skinny and flared and messy and clean and patterns and patterns and bright colors and dull colors and everything in between. There are no trends anymore, and nothing’s out of fashion, and it’s so freeing to finally get rid of all my “trendy” clothes and just dress as me.
Which, let’s be honest, is going to be indistinguishable any season now from a Disney supervillain.
pictured: on a casual snack run to Trader Joe’s