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When is it time to let go of clothes that no longer fit your body or your life?
I’ve never been much of a shopper, or interested in fashion, but I could put together a decent look when I was a 20-something office worker. At that point I was exposed to enough trends and more fashion capable colleagues, so I was able to stay on the rails. But enter a decade plus of stay-at-home motherhood and a pandemic, and I became a sweatpants or joggers for days person, favoring comfort above everything else. This was passable, until I signed up this year to be a substitute teacher at my kids’ school and am subject to a, gulp, dress code that doesn’t allow for my beloved joggers or even jeans, which had become my “dress up” option.
When I booked my first substitute gig, I walked into my closet and was greeted by rows of clothes, and nothing to wear. Many things were pre-pregnancy items that I optimistically thought I’d fit into again, one day. Formal wear, worn once, shirts that I no longer like, and rows of shoes with dust on them because they pinch, or blister a heel. It was time to clean it up, clean it out, and create a closet that works for a woman in her 40s who needs to be comfortably casual, and occasionally professional or dressy.
I started by emptying everything onto the bed, and got large shopping bags for donations. I tried everything on. If it didn’t fit, or if I tilted my head to the side, trying to figure out if I liked it, off it went into the donation bag. If I put it on and it felt great and was still in good shape, it went back on a hanger and into the closet. I learned that I gravitate away from prints now, and feel better in solid colors, comfortable and natural materials, and well-made shoes with lower or stacked heels.
Several things I pulled out of the closet brought back memories, of the person I used to be (a career woman), or an event I attended (a black tie college reunion), or something I worked hard to buy—specifically, a pair of strappy espadrilles from Spain that I bought to celebrate landing a new job, more than 15 years ago. I’ve carted them from city to city, closet to closet, but haven’t worn them in a decade. I tried them on and they no longer fit, which was a bit crushing (any woman who has survived pregnancy knows a parting gift can be slightly bigger feet for life), and a bit liberating, too. It was time to let go of the shoes, and clear room on the shelf. I took a picture of them, and, like Marie Kondo advises, I wished them well and tossed them into the bag.
On my way to school pick-up, I dropped off the donation bags at Goodwill before I could get cold feet. I made a list of things I needed, like a pair of good black pants, some long-sleeved t-shirts, new brown boots to replace ones that had seen better days and I’m slowly adding these things as I find them. My closet was reduced by two-thirds, but now there is room between the hangers – things aren’t stuffed in to fit. I can see what I have, and everything is a favorite. The hangers all match, and the effect is calming and reassuring. There aren’t a pair of jeans in a too-small size to make me feel bad about myself, or a formal dress sitting idle in the corner. I hope it finds someone, and they are able to wear it and have a blast in it. I wish for you, too, a closet that makes you feel good, that fits the person you are today, and wraps you in comfort and possibility for the new year.
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