After my first juice cleanse, I felt completely accomplished — invincible almost. I had purged my body of bad toxins and officially felt the healthiest I had ever been. Then why didn’t I feel the same way when I purged my wardrobe? Instead of a relief, I had an enormous sense of guilt.
My wardrobe has been such an imperative part of my life. I can’t tell you what I scored on my SATs, but I can tell you exactly what I wore to take them. Ask me who my first kiss was and I actually have no recollection, but I do know I was wearing a Lilly Pulitzer shift dress and sandals with my hair half up.
I was always pretty shy in school. What I was uncertain of in the classroom, I was sure of in my attire. I found my voice through my wardrobe. A bold printed blouse paired with a sequin skirt was my way of allowing my personality to shine through. I relied on my outfits to do the talking. Some wear clothing as a status symbol – a Louis Vuitton bag can certainly make a statement- but in my opinion, it’s not the price of the item, rather more the story behind it and how it is worn. What I choose to wear dictates my day to day – regardless of the amount it costs. If I’m not feeling well or in the best mood, my go-to is always a black ensemble; whether it be from Forever 21 or Neiman Marcus. If I want to feel feminine, I put on a flouncy skirt or a lace dress – my favorite is actually from Target.
In my profession – and even while I was in school – I became known for my fashion-forward outfits, which I think is where my need to add to my ever-expanding closet became insatiable. As a twenty-something-year-old millennial with student loans out the wazoo, my salary only allows for a few splurges a year. If I had to guess, $1,200 a year goes to my wardrobe. Everything I’ve ever worn was earned by hard work and dedication to being a slave to fashion. I think this may be why I hold tremendous guilt for purging so much.
Once 2016 rolled around I knew it was finally time to purge my wardrobe and condense my closet. As difficult as I knew it would be, I felt empowered and wanted to start fresh with new memories.
Clothing articles I hadn’t worn within the past year got put in the ‘no’ pile. If I’d worn the item only once or twice within the year, I looked at my Instagram feed to see if the article of clothing had been documented – if the answer was ‘no’, then it went. The process felt extremely similar to that juice cleanse. Just like the toxins that exited my body, a weight was lifted off my mind knowing each piece of my wardrobe was going to someone who would appreciate it more than I ever would. I was setting my wardrobe free to create new memories for someone else.
I gave most of my wardrobe to Goodwill, a nonprofit I’ve given to since I was young. I remember my mom asking me each year if there was anything I wanted to donate – usually it would be a pair of shoes or a sweatshirt I no longer wore. It’s definitely a rewarding feeling knowing that everything donated is helping fund job training, employment placement services, and other community-based programs for people who have disabilities.
I chose to post more fashion-focused – and pricier pieces – to the Poshmark app, which I actually use to shop for discounted items myself. I purchased my coveted Moschino french fry iPhone case on this app. I listed my Von Dutch skirts and hats from my “skater” days in hopes they would catch the eye of someone living the lifestyle in Venice, and I posted a few designer dresses that were just a tad too snug. While I did not make a ton of money, $250 was better than nothing.
About a week later, I had to be in New York for fashion week. I could not wait for the designers’ presentations and shows for the upcoming fall season. As the models were walking down the runways, I took note of specific items that were now back in season — items that I had just purged from my wardrobe. A sense of guilt and anxiety flooded my soul. Did I make the right decision? Why did I sell that fringe skirt I wore just once five years ago? I should have kept that bomber jacket. Even though I knew what I had done was for the greater good and someone more deserving was keeping warm in my shearling coat, I felt completely guilty for parting with these items. Not to mention, all of those $49.50 t-shirts I had worked $6 an hour for at Hollister in high school, I had given away. It’s scary how much money I wasted on things that at the time I thought I so desperately needed, but in reality, did not. Giving them away almost felt like a crime.
Gluttony was never an adjective I would choose to describe myself, but through this purging experience, I realized the pressure I placed on myself to be fashionable turned me into a greedy person, which is definitely not in vogue.
My mom always told me that if I wanted something — say a tattoo for instance — I should wait a year and only get it if I stilled wanted it then. Looking back, I wish I had done that with my wardrobe. Even though I am kicking myself for letting each item go, I now know that sometimes holding onto the old can make more than just Instagram memories. While this lesson of excess was a hard one to stomach, it is something I will always take with me, especially on my next shopping extravaganza.
[thefeedproducts style=’four’]
