For most of my adult life, shopping has been an exercise in aspiration. Every time I took out my card, it was in good faith that whatever I was about to purchase was the missing piece to the wardrobe I wanted and deserved. In 2020, I had to have Hailey Bieber’s Dunks. In 2019, I bought Dior B23s, in 2018, a pair of Prada Cloudbust, and the year before that, in a double whammy of poor judgement, Balenciaga Triple S and Speed trainers. Each time, I believed it would be the pair that finally made me a ✨sneaker girl✨.
The idea that we’re one Add To Cart away from our best sartorial selves is extremely attractive and heavily capitalised on by marketers and copywriters. Just look at how many emails currently in your inbox with the words essentials, basics, must-haves, ultimate, wear forever, or investment in the subject line. They are designed to make us shop now under the guise of needing to shop less later. I wish someone told me that a trending pair of sneakers is the last thing to ever fix someone’s wardrobe.
Looking back on how I shopped for the best part of 15 years, many of the pieces that made me fall the hardest are also the ones that made me fall out the fastest. Like a crush that leaves you wondering ‘What was I thinking?’ a few months later. In consumerism psychology, they call this hedonic adaptation. I was also terrible at predicting which of my purchases I would end up wearing to death and those that would remain untouched. If you can’t predict what you’ll Wear Forever, Net-A-Porter isn’t about to. To curb this, I now rarely purchase anything before letting it live on my wishlist for a few months. I also shop on a Need basis which leads to buying more things I do wear and less things I don’t.
I get nervous when readers ask for advice to ‘start their wardrobe from scratch’. Because I’ve found myself in that place many times, I know it means they are willing to get rid of many things and buy many other things in one go. That never ends well. Specifically, it ends with you being in the exact same spot 12 months later. The trend cycle is what got you there, but human nature is also at play; our brain is wired to crave newness. If I asked what piece in your wardrobe you’re most excited about right now, statistically most of you would point to something you recently acquired. In a letter I published last summer, I shared a week’s worth of outfits from getting dressed in my mom’s wardrobe after a suitcase mishap. I had so much fun getting dressed that week, but it wasn’t because my mom’s clothes are more exciting than mine, in fact much of her wardrobe is quite old, but they were new to me.
I have always been - what do you call the opposite of a hoarder? I compulsively get rid of stuff. I am not cleaner or tidier than the average person, but I could declutter for England as my mother in law would say. Maybe it comes from the illusion that if I keep my possessions lean and my physical space streamlined my brain will feel lighter. I Spring Clean my closet space systematically almost every day. I have sisters and cousins that always welcome hand-me-downs. So, I always gave out, donated, or sold the clothes I didn’t wear. I considered that these supposedly respectable ways of getting rid of unwanted clothes earned me the freedom to start from scratch. But recently, I realised that this craving for newness and tendency to get rid of stuff led to me to part with things I wish I held on to.
I first noticed this when I came across a box of clothes that had fallen through the cracks of my obsessive decluttering. Re-discovering and wearing clothes I bought in my freshman year of college was a joy. On a recent trip home, I sorted through a bunch of my old clothes that, after having been passed on from sister to sister, landed in a closet in my mum’s flat. That closet where we put stuff we don’t want taking up space in our own apartments but aren’t ready to fully part with yet. I found a few gems like an embellished Isabel Marant denim jacket I thrifted on Ebay when I was in high school. I am grateful my sisters don’t have that same tendencies as me or else it would have been long gone. In a recent letter,
tells the story of a jumpsuit she regretted donating. She recalls the happy memories she has wearing it - a book signing, the recording of a significant episode of her show, being on holiday when she received a DM from her favourite author. Until one day, she spots it on Vinted, decides to buy it, and discovers, along with a faint lipstick stain on the label, that she has bought back her very own jumpsuit.When I reflect on what these pieces I was pleased to be reunited with have in common versus those I never regretted giving away, for the most part they were the well-made, sometimes they were a little weird and wonderful, and never ever were they the trendy items.
This is the time of year when people sort through their closets and do out with the old. It felt timely to share that I wish I owned more clothes with tangible memories attached to them. I am not saying don’t do the Spring Clean; I am very much in favour. Loan or store away the things you don’t currently wear; looking at a smaller selection of clothes every morning will do wonders for your decision fatigue. I am also not saying everything should be held onto. No good will come of storing a pit-stained undershirt for better days. But for the pieces with memories attached to them maybe a little distance in the form of a few years spent in a storage bin out of sight out of mind is what you need before finding each other again. You might find that the missing piece that keeps you from making another ugly sneakers-shaped mistake is an old pair of jeans or a jacket you fell in love with many seasons of life ago.
Love this post! Thank you for your wisdom as always. P.S. For white tops with pit stains, a little lemon juice, baking soda and sunshine will usually do the trick in my experience! It’s saved many a vintage tee for me
There is just so much wisdom in this piece that I started mentally highlighting until I was mentally highlighting the whole thing. The idea around what makes something stick — and finding that for our individual self — is genius and I think something I haven’t wanted to face thinking about. I will be now.