When I first started cleaning out my closet, I faced some strong internal resistance. My dialog (because don’t we all talk to ourselves about these things?) sounded something like this:
What if this comes back in style? I should probably keep in just in case…
What if I gain or lose ten pounds? Even though it doesn’t fit now, I might need this size one day…
What if the weather gets unusually hot or cold? I’d better be prepared…
What if I get invited to a formal event? I ought to hold on to this prom dress…
Wait, what?!? Does this sound familiar?
For years, I catered to the “what if,” and I think this was the primary cause of my crowded closet. Even a serious shopping habit can be offset by ruthless editing, but I had a math problem; I kept adding without subtracting. There are benefits to being prepared, and holding on to things seems like a money saver. If I already have it, I won’t need to buy it…right?
There is a certain comfort in having a stock pile of clothing (or anything, really), but life rarely shakes out exactly the way we anticipate.
In reality, I will want to buy (or rent, or borrow) a new dress if I happen to be invited to a formal event. If I lose ten pounds, it could very well be during the winter, and those tiny linen pants will be of no use. I could gain ten pounds in the summer when those next size up corduroys won’t be wearable. In either of those cases, I would probably want to get something new to embrace my new size. Unusually extreme weather only lasts briefly, and I could probably manage a few days of snow by piling on lighter layers. If something comes back in style, there is little chance of me wearing the trend again and in the same way.
Last spring I found a piece of advice that made letting go seem a little easier: store it at the store.
Store it at the store.
I decided that if “what if” was my main hesitation in letting go, I would store at the store instead of in my house. If I could get a similar item for less that $20 in less than 20 minutes, I would definitely store it at the store.
I recently had an unexpected opportunity to test the efficacy of the 20/20 rule. We needed a roasting pan (and by “we” I mean my husband, who is the chef in our home). When I went to look for the pan, I realized it had been in the drawer of our old oven. We had gotten new appliances, and I forgot to check the drawer before the old ones were removed. Since dinner depended on a roasting pan, I stopped by the thrift store and found one in pristine shape for $5. The errand took less than 20 minutes, including the time it took to wash the pan.
I didn’t intentionally give away the roasting pan, but I saw how it might not be so terrible to find myself unprepared in one of those “just in case” moments. After that experience, I used the 20/20 rule as inspiration to give away some books I have already read, some art supplies I haven’t used in the last three years, and some extra plastic kitchen utensils that were taking up drawer space. I decided two slotted spoons were plenty, and in the unlikely event that I needed more, 20 minutes and 20 dollars would be more than enough to make that happen.
If the item is easily borrowed, I can also store it at the store. I don’t need to hold on to that heavy carry on luggage with the marginally functional zipper; I have another one that works perfectly, and I can borrow one from family if I ever need two at once. Friends often borrow serving pieces from me. I like to entertain and have a large collection of vintage dishes, so these items are not burdensome for me to keep. They bring me joy and serve a purpose, and I’m happy to share them. My friends could “store those at the store,” in a way.
In the process of minimizing, I found things I haven’t worn or used in years, things I was unlikely to wear or use in the near future. These are things I wanted to let go of, but I held on to them out of fear…because really, for me at least, the core of “what if” is fear…of insufficiency, inadequacy, of not enough. I no longer want fear as a motivating factor in my life. I don’t want fear deciding what stays in my closets or cabinets or drawers.
So goodbye, dress that I kept because I was afraid I might need to wear it one day! That dress took up space. It occupied physical space that I would rather use for something I enjoy wearing often, and worse than that, it wasted emotional space. I want to spend more energy living my life in the present and less effort planning for what might be.
Now when I consider getting rid of something, I ask, “Why not?” If the answer is that I really love and/or use said thing, then it stays. If not? Add it to the giveaway pile. I’m pretty sure I won’t miss it, and if I do, it’s probably stored at the store.*
Do “what ifs” interfere with your attempts to simplify?
Are your “what ifs” motivated by fear or something else?
What could you store at the store instead?
*So far, this has only backfired one time that I recall. One summer I gave away my favorite fleece lounge pants. They fit well and were broken in to perfection, and they were the most comfortable thing I had for wearing around the house. In a fit of ‘roid rage (I had to be on prednisone and was having mood swings and hot flashes), I cleaned out my dresser and donated some things, including my beloved lounge pants. In that moment of heat and bloatedness, I couldn’t imagine ever wearing them again. Whenever the weather gets cold now, I do have passing thoughts about those fleece pants. Maybe this year I’ll find a suitable replacement. So…usually “store it at the store” is helpful, unless you are medicated…in which case, best not to make any rash decisions. 😉
For the past two weeks, my toddler daughter has been asking if it’s fall yet. Every time she’d see a leaf float down into the yard, she would cheer, “It’s FALL!” And now it finally is!
Like my daughter, I’m ready for a new season. At this point in the year (and in my three month capsule wardrobe), I’m itching for a change. Fall is my favorite season, and the corresponding clothes are a big part of that.
As October approaches, I am assessing my wardrobe from the last season and deciding what stays and what goes. Wearing the same 30-something pieces of clothing for three months has taught me some things about myself.
“Sporty” is not a word I would ever use to describe myself or my style, and with that acknowledgement, I’ll be sending my floral track pants and my printed sweatshirt on to new homes. Those outfits felt a bit more casual than I like, and wearing heels to dress them up was impractical for my daily life. No big deal–I spent less than $15 to try out the look, so I don’t feel guilty about consigning or donating the clothes.
I’m also ready to admit that there is a certain length of skirt I will not confidently wear without tights or leggings. I had one such skirt in my summer capsule, and though I wore it often in winter (with tights), I didn’t wear it once in the past three months. That’s okay, too. I’ll skip this skirt for my fall collection and maybe bring it back when the weather is consistently cool enough to wear tights with it.
Several things have also worn out after three (or in some cases, six) months of regular wear. I have already replaced my striped tee, and I’ll be swapping my striped dress and striped tank for my fall closet. Hooray for new stripes!
I bought the (nearly) new striped pieces from the thrift store, and I spent less than $25 on all three of them.
Other retiring pieces include my black crochet top tee (too faded), my beloved beaded sandals (falling apart, and I’ve already glued them back together twice), and the light wash jeans. I usually wear dark wash jeans, but I thought a lighter wash might be nice for summer. So many fashion bloggers made them work, and I felt inspired to give it a try. I paid less than $8 for those secondhand Anthropologie jeans, and it was worth it to discover that I do actually prefer a darker wash.
With the change in seasons, the worn out pieces, the mistakes, and the items I’ve been wearing regularly for months (some since March!), I am packing up or giving away almost everything in my summer collection. Some of the pieces will go in the drawer until it’s time to reassess next spring.
I’ve had some hits and misses in my wardrobe choices this summer, and I feel like I have a clearer understanding of my style. For summer, I included some pieces that I liked but weren’t my favorites; they seemed like necessary basics. For fall, I’m ditching that philosophy. I pretty much love every single thing that will be in my closet from October to December. I feel happier with my closet overall, and I’ll be interested to see if I miss those basic pieces. In the meantime, I’ve started putting outfit ideas together, and nearly all the combinations–even the weird and quirky ones–feel especially like me. I can’t wait to share them.
So…October (and thus a new season of Project 333) starts in a week. Are you ready to try a minimalist wardrobe challenge?
Earlier this month, our family went on a week-long beach vacation. I expected my limited closet would make packing especially easy, and I beamed with pride at my great planning and organization. I made a list in advance, picked things that layered well and could be combined into several outfits, and then laid everything out to admire my work. I mean, look at that spread: efficient accessories, options for temperature swings . . . I felt really pleased with myself.
And then I started filling the suitcase, which was a standard, rolling carry on. My packed suitcase was thoroughly packed, and I suspected I had packed too much. I pulled a stack of items off the top, removed a pair of shoes, and zipped my luggage easily.
None of the items pictured above were among the things removed from the suitcase and left at home. Rather, I had taken out pajamas and lounge clothes. For a week-long beach trip with my family, I had brought about a dozen outfits’ worth of clothes and only one set of pajamas. We also had in-unit laundry, which I used while there but completely ignored while packing.
I forgot that reality is reality. I spent half my time in lounge clothes or swim wear, relaxing with my family. A pile of lounge wear doesn’t make a Pinterest-worthy picture, but fewer outfits and more pajamas would have been a better fit.
Obviously overpacking for a car trip a few hours away is a mistake of little consequence. Still, I’m trying to cut down on these fashion mistakes and the time, money, and stress that they cost me.
My unedited closet contained plenty of mistakes: the mint green tank that was on sale but isn’t the right color for me; the designer skirt that was a great deal but is a size too small and only fits while I’m standing and wearing super-constrictive shapewear; the silk top in the perfect color that must be dry cleaned after every wear. Those three items collectively cost me less than $60, but those are only three mistakes of many.
Meanwhile, this is my basic black tank top:
Yes, that’s a large hole. It extends beyond the seam into a long run, and it gapes right around my left hip whenever I wear it. That $60 spent on mistakes could replace my basic tank along with my favorite tights that have a run and can only be worn with boots. I think I would even have enough left over to re-sole a beloved pair of heels and possibly alter my charcoal skirt that’s a bit too big.
Not one of those investments has the appeal of buying a new top, even a top in the wrong color. Similarly, packing pajamas sounds far less exciting than packing outfits I will not have an opportunity to wear. I am swept up in the thrill of the new and the idealized, and I end up missing what I actually need.
I’m hoping that with greater intention and objectivity, I will make fewer fashion mistakes. I have grace for myself in this learning process, and I know I’m growing in the art of packing and living lightly. And next time I go shopping, will someone please remind me to replace that hole-y black tank top?