Call it the affliction of a former fashion editor, or the result of living in a state with four seasons for a decade, but I had so many articles of clothing that I woke up to a loud crash of my closet rod collapsing because of the weight.
You’d think that would have been my “come-to-Jesus” moment, but it wasn’t. What finally got me to bring garbage bags into my room was a recent move in sunny Florida and the patient support of a friend. It boiled down to guilt: These pieces had designer labels and the cost of each had been ridiculous. (I knew that because the tags were still attached to many of them.)
Still, it makes no sense to keep outdated slacks and dresses that no longer fit my style simply because they were expensive. If I got rid of all the constantly-ignored-and-skipped-over clothes, the pieces I actually wear wouldn’t look so wrinkled. There would be enough space between the hangers.
Dozens of bags were donated to charities or delivered to consignment stores.
And you know what? I haven’t missed one thing!