Every year there comes a time, a dreadful time, when I need to muster enough energy to tackle the worst of tasks — the closet purge. I can’t explain why I struggle with this. I have never been diagnosed with any sort of obsessive compulsive disorder and I can’t say I have any sentimental attachment to any article of clothing or shoes or random knick-knacks that resides inside this tiny space. But obviously I must have some sort of problem because I’ve reached a point where I can’t stand to listen to the agonizing sound the closet door makes every time I try to close it shut. And I know for a fact it’s trying to tell me it’s no longer willing to contain anything else I may attempt to hang, fold, stack or hide in there. If it weren’t for the fact that it has no other choice but to stay where it is, pleading for mercy, it would have surely walked out on me refusing to put up with my baggage any longer.
So I did it. I even read tips online like: If you haven’t worn it all year it has to go because you had four full seasons to wear whatever it is and you failed to seize the opportunity. Although, I don’t entirely agree with this argument because who is wearing a bikini in autumn, winter or spring? What if you didn’t have a chance to wear it during the summer because you don’t own a pool and who actually swims in Toronto’s beaches? Gross. I suppose though defending a hypothetical bathing suit dilemma is cause to show I do have some mild hoarding issue and if I’m not careful someone may nominate me for a feature on TLC.
But let’s face it, there are things in my closet I know for certainty I will never wear again. In fact, the very sight of some things in there angers me as they are nothing more than a constant reminder of the money I spent.
For instance, for some reason (perhaps a lapse in judgement) I purchased a baby pink coloured fleece hoodie bearing the name of my alma mater. Hate’s a strong word, but I thoroughly detest the colour pink.
I have no idea why I made that purchase and I haven’t been holding on to it because it’s a beloved sweater from my treasured university days. No of course not, I have the traditional navy blue U of T hoodie that I’ll keep for as long as I can. (Contrary to my earlier claim I guess I do have an emotional attachment to some things) I don’t even remember wearing this pink sweater, not to mention I find it quite hideous. And yet, I’ve kept it for seven years.
Several hours later, the pink sweater along with a plethora of other items found a new home — inside two black garbage bags waiting on me to pick an organization to donate them too. My love lives by a brilliant philosophy: if you buy anything, you must remove and donate a similar item from your closet that has seen better days. Simple and seemingly obvious. Why haven’t I adopted this practice? Well, probably because I do have a slight self-diagnosed hoarding issue. On the plus side, my closet remains silent these days and with any luck the pink fleece will soon find a suitable and more appreciative owner.