Today was the day I took all of my beautiful and bright summer clothes and traded them in for my heavy, dark, fall clothes. sigh. Today was judgement day- judgement day for all of the clothes I own. Young and old alike. It was the day where only the best were chosen, the worst were thrown to the depths of my garbage, and the others were passed on. This is a particularly difficult day for me, as I struggle with clothing attachment.
Clothing Attachment: A predicament many face when cleaning out their closet. Usually occurring in women, though not exclusive to the gender. May lead to confusion, anger, rationalizing, and self-negotiations.
When it comes to helping others on their personal judgement day, I have no problem. I can toss anyone’s clothing without blinking my eyes. I did this last summer as I helped a friend move- she begged and pleaded to keep those Mary-Janes, telling me, but what if I need them for a flapper costume. I said no- ruthless. It was only one month later and she was invited to a 1920s themed party.
So as I sat on the floor of my closet staring at the clothes and shoes that I forgot existed I realized that I was about to begin my greatest purge yet.
Discolored dresses.
Shirts with is that mustard?
A skirt with a hole right on the butt.
Shoes I can’t walk in.
Clothes for when I lose weight.
Clothes for when I gain weight.
A shirt I bought from a thrift store for maybe $5.
One question- Why? Why did I own this? Why did I wear this? Why was this sold?
I’m really upset at myself for owning these army pants for about 10 years. Also, I now realize that I paired it with my gun/coffee shirt for this picture, which is terrifying.
Things I still refuse to part with, but should:
The dress I wore on the night of my college graduation. It’s excellent for summer outdoor parties.
Those jeans from the Gap my grandparents got me in sixth grade that were definitely for adults and definitely did not fit me until I was an adult.
Oh, my sweatshirt from my sixteenth birthday that Sugar Cult signed. I mean, I already dumped the Etnies. Don’t make me get rid of both.
A sweatshirt with my dog spray painted on it- I will be buried in this.
Hats. Lots of hats.
I have a lot of theories as to how I own so much, but feel as though I own so little. These theories include:
My hatred of ironing. If I have to iron an article of clothing, I will look at it and decide if it’s worth ironing or not. Usually it is not- back in the closet until the next time this debate resumes.
Bad lighting and poor usage of space- Mariah Carey doesn’t have these problems.
Hangers- I either have too many or I have too little. Where do they go?!
Colorful clothes, impulse shopping, trends, and things you can wear once and never again- Because you realize your purchase is hideous, but you feel guilty about throwing it out.
And my personal favorite reason for why I own so much, but feel as though I own so little- I’m a woman.
Next season I’m doing all black. Can’t go wrong.
And on a positive note- Many things given to an excellent person who lives right across the hall- so I know my clothes are in good hands and will be loved. John and I filled two large bags to be donated of very nice things that just were no longer of use to us. I’m feeling a little lighter.
52 Miles per Month 
Cleaning out my closet happens fairly often. Sometimes I only give away a few things. Sometimes I give away things that I wasn’t ready to part with 6 months ago but now can toss. It’s cathartic. I also love that there’s a Covenant House a few blocks away that I can take it to.
It’s so difficult. I should be honest and say that I actually went back into the bags and took out two items I was giving away. I wasn’t ready to part with them.