This week flew. I'm immersed in a big project at work and the hours pass quickly, and the evenings are full. I'm getting stuff done, and it feels good.
Last night's project was a massive closet purge. I'm on record as no fan of that "tidying" chick - I didn't pull everything I own out of the closet and pile it on the floor and meditate upon it, lovingly holding each item as I contemplate what it means to me, because that woman is a whackjob who should take a pill already. Of course she's made a fortune "helping" people who pay her to come in and lovingly bully them to throw out their baby pictures and family heirlooms and be creepily tidy on their behalf, so what do I know?
My way is less OCD and more chardonnay. I turned on a movie on the bedroom TV I rarely watch, poured a glass of wine, and opened my large, full closet. I started with the hanger on the far left, the one jammed tight against the wall among the hangers that haven't moved in years. Working from left to right, I grabbed armloads of stuff and threw it onto the bed. I held each item up and asked myself the two true questions: Not "Does this bring me joy?" (because FFS it's a knit top I bought on sale at J.C. Penney five years ago, not a precious, wiggly new puppy), but "When did I wear this last?" and "Am I really going to want to wear it again, ever?" And often the answers were, "It's been so long I can't remember," and "Nope."
Two and a half large trash bags of stuff for Goodwill on Saturday. One smaller bag of actual trash - stuff that is faded or damaged and otherwise not worthy of donation. That's just the first culling of the closet - the stuff I have kept far too long and know I'll never wear. Phase two will happen on Saturday, when I will try on the surviving pieces and decide whether they actually fit, are close to fitting, or let's get real here, probably will never fit my grandmotherly ass properly again. I couldn't face doing all of that in one evening after a long work day. Shoes and handbags are next, along with a few items that I want to take to a consignment shop.
Then comes the important/hard part: rebuilding a decent wardrobe. Truth: I am such a geek, I'd rather spend money on a new MacBook, or books, or yarn, than on clothes. This isn't a good thing. Dressing well matters too. I know the usual excuses: it's shallow, it's yada yada women appearance patriarchy - please. I'm a freaking grandma who suddenly owns steel toed boots and a hardhat; I roll my eyes at the patriarchy shit. But how we dress and present ourselves to the world still does matter. It matters for men too, and I'm ashamed when I realize that the men I work with are often better dressed than I am. Time to fix this issue. No more yarn until I can dress myself like a grownup professional woman again.
I had a lot of clothes in my closet but nothing to wear. Now I have a far smaller wardrobe, not enough to wear, and I will be forced to think about buying clothes. I bought enough quality yarn for three afghans in the last month and a half, but spending that much on decent quality office wear? I feel resistance. Where are Stacy and Clinton from What Not to Wear? Clinton?? Clinton?? I need you, man! (It would help a lot if you could still bring that $5k Visa card, because damn.)