Declutter your closet: a fashion editor’s no-regrets system

The image seared into my memory: a friend’s clothing rack collapsing under a mountain of garments, a scene reminiscent of a particularly lavish Sex and the City wardrobe gone rogue. It wasn't just the sheer volume; it was the precariousness of it all, a testament to the perils of unchecked accumulation. She didn't call seeking sympathy for her sartorial excess; she sought a solution, and as a writer with a history of closet interventions, I was the logical, if slightly weary, choice.

The psychology of 'neverworn'

My experience isn't solely rooted in penning articles. For years, I’ve been quietly dismantling the overflowing closets of fashion editors and writers – a practice honed during my time at Vogue, where I helped consign Nicolas Ghesquière’s first Balenciaga City bag to a new Home, alongside more questionable acquisitions like duty-free wallets from Chișinău. Frankly, I excel at clearing out other people’s fashion clutter, but confronting my own has always proved a more formidable challenge. It's a therapist treating their own patients, a frustrating paradox.

But I’ve developed a system, a sort of breathwork for your shoe rack, designed to liberate you from the tyranny of circumcised stilettos and thong heels that inflict untold suffering. It’s not about deprivation; it's about reclaiming space, both physical and mental.

First, set a timer. Forget dedicating an entire day to purging your 'neverworn' possessions. Start with thirty minutes, or even fifteen. Sixty seconds can be surprisingly effective; time constraints eliminate the endless “what-if” scenarios that paralyze decisive action. This tactic proves remarkably applicable to dating, by the way – in or out, darling, no lingering.

Recently, I bid farewell to a beloved Versace Jeans Couture top, its moth-hole edging dangerously close to a critical zone. It was a clear and irreversible ending.

Next, ask yourself: When was the last time I wore this? Nine months to a year is the threshold—seasonality permitting. Be honest with yourself.

The real work begins when you confront the why. Why hasn’t that impeccably tailored jacket seen the light of day? This often requires a deep dive into your shopping habits. I have a few terms for these tendencies: Label Dickmitization (purchasing something solely for the brand, despite its flaws) and Price Wasn’t That Bad Brain (rationalizing a purchase based on a perceived bargain, ignoring the garment’s shortcomings).

And then there's the emotional baggage. Guilt trips courtesy of your mother's questionable sweater choices? A gift you can’t bear to discard? I’ve even diagnosed conditions for this: Mommy Issues Hoarding Syndrome (MIHS) and Gift Guilt Syndrome (GGS).

Separate yourself from the object. If resistance sets in, a brisk walk and some Enya can work wonders. Remember, a cluttered closet is a cluttered mind.

Employ the 'Expiration Pile' tactic. Designate a temporary holding zone for the indecisive items. Wear them, observe your feelings, and either keep or discard. But be ruthless; this isn’t a storage solution.

Be realistic about fit. That blazer your friend swore would make you look like a confident Michael Douglas? If it leaves you resembling an out-of-work David Byrne impersonator, it’s time to let it go. Ill-fitting clothes breed discomfort, and discomfort breeds distraction.

If it needs tailoring, get it done—soon. Don't let a pile of “almost perfect” garments accumulate by your front door. That's merely postponing the inevitable.

Start small. Each item released is a step toward a cleaner closet and, consequently, a clearer headspace. Commit to just sixty seconds a day—one item, one step—and by week’s end, you’ll have seven pieces ready to be sold, donated, or discarded. The space, both in your wardrobe and your life, will be all the richer for it.