Go back with me a few years. I work in TV or in marketing. There's an office where I go each day, filled with snappy co-workers, and my days are booked with professional meetings. It's a match made in heaven as I also love clothes and shoes. Put it this way, there will never be a closet too big for my wardrobe. Add to that a close friend (who is as big a fan of fashion as I am) roughly the same size as me, and I really have two wardrobes.
In March of 2014 I left TV for good. I started my own businesses with a friend. They're focused around teen drug prevention and education. Suddenly, my day at the office changes. I work from home, with two smelly, hairy dogs who couldn't care less if I'm in yoga pants or a suit. My professional meetings are few and far between. When I do go out, it's often to be with the teens I work with, and they're more likely to relate to me if I'm wearing what they wear, not a fitted jacket or sky-high heels. The hallways of a high school are no place for heels, and lugging piles of stuff for events in shoes that aren't strapped to my feet and meant for speed is a death wish. So, while I have hours to get ready (in theory) I spend most days in comfortable clothes, and shoes are always optional. Not long into this adventure I feel the slick facade starting to slip.
Move forward to our first anniversary, Aug. 10 of 2014. I had all sorts of ideas on where we could go to dinner, I'd dreamed up the perfect outfit, and I wanted to have pretty hair. Getting ready that night I couldn't make anything work. The first outfit failed, as did the succeeding 12. My hair refused to do a damn thing, and any makeup I put on looked garish and fake. WTH? I had wanted to look pretty, it was a special night, I was ruining it!
Brandon, tired of waiting for me and drawn by the sound of wails from the bathroom, came in to ask what was wrong. 'I forgot how to be fancy!' I cried. He just laughed. He'd always said he preferred jeans and a t-shirt with flat shoes to a fancy dress, heels, and some make-up. (It took me a long time to believe him. Don't know why, he's a simple fellow with a decided appreciation for function over form. Those engineers are an enigma to me...)
The fancy level went even lower when I couldn't bear to go to a nice restaurant because I didn't look nice. We went to our favorite local dive, ate awesome sandwiches, drank beer, and talked. It was better than being fancy.
After our 2 week trip in Humboldt earlier this year, I really turned a corner. I have been cleaning out or doing without, and I've been happier. Boxes of stuff like these leave our house almost weekly. If I try on a shirt and it annoys me, doesn't look good, has any sort of problem, etc. it goes OUT! I usually swap a winter and summer wardrobe out of boxes in the basement because my hoard is so big... this year, it's my goal to cut each down by half and store it all upstairs in the closet.
The stuff that's leaving... I don't even miss it. If we haven't used it recently, it goes. I'm just following wisdom you'll find on organizational blogs all over the Internets... this is nothing new. It's just that I've never had the courage to do it before.
I don't miss my hair, either. It now takes two minutes to do, instead of 50. That means more time doing fun stuff, like mountain biking, or dirt biking, or camping with Mr. Wonderful. He makes me feel fancy, and that's all that matters!