Saturday, 7 January 2012
What's in your wardrobe?!
Had somebody asked me this question a fortnight ago, I would have said something particularly sarcastic such as '10 Chinese landmarks and Ryan Reynolds! What the bloody hell do you think is in my wardrobe?!'
Having recently completed a long overdue wardrobe clear out, it has become apparent to me that even my most sarcastic response could have been fairly accurate. (Except for perhaps the chinese landmark and Ryan Reynolds part...) Truth is folks, I had absolutely no idea what was in there until I started rummaging through it for the first time in about two years. The results of this task, which, by the way, used up at least two hours of valuable scotch egg eating time (I will never be a healthy living guru), were half hilarious, and half worrying.
As the 'absolutely-must-go' pile turned my bed into something on par with Ben Nevis, I realised that my wardrobe, which I'd thought was just a pretty reasonable collection of all sorts of fine and wonderful attire, could actually be easily categorised into the following groups of clothes:
'I'll slim into this'
'Sh*t! The shops are closing in half an hour and I need something to wear to Jim's party tonight. I'll buy this ridiculously over-my-budget dress.'
'Sh*t! The shops are closing in half an hour and I need something to wear to Tim's party tonight. I'll buy this ridiculously cheap dress that makes me look like a baby elephant.'
'I'm drunk, life is short, and despite the fact that I am too intoxicated to realise that I haven't tried it on, have picked up the wrong size, and it is so not my colour, I will buy it anyway, because LIFE IS SHORT MAN!'
'Ooo 50% off! What a bargain! Can't go wrong with that!'
Yes, it is safe to say, that I am a self confessed awful shopper, and for all of this time, I have happily pranced around Debenhams like a walrus on crack, completely oblivious to the fact that I am a reasonably deluded impulse buyer, who wears just 35% of everything she buys, and has therefore wasted a great deal of money over the past few years. Guilty as charged!
My biggest shopping flaw, is the oh-so-cliche 'I'll slim into this' purchase, and I know I'm not the only one that shops with the mythical view that I will most definitely be working that item as soon as I've trimmed my waistline. I seem to get so emotionally attached to items of clothing, that despite the fact they may make me look like an overfed whale, I will go ahead and part with my pennies, insistent that it won't be long before I've dropped a dress size and am strutting it round town with a Gok Wan style hip movement.
Next in line are the panic buys- the Jim/Tim party scenarios. We seem to find ourselves so desperate to turn up to a party wearing something new (in hindsight I have absolutely no idea why there seems to be some kind of unwritten rule about wearing the same dress twice), that we'll often refrain from realising that our panic buy is either far too expensive, or ridiculously hideous. Realisation of the latter tends to kick in mid-party, courtesy of some fairly odd looks or those lovely 'How did it go on Jeremy Kyle?' questions. (May I just take this opportunity to clarify that my panic-buys have never resulted in such remarks, however I am sure that this is simply because my friends are far too polite to voice their frantic concerns about my sanity.)
We then of course, have the drunk purchases. While I can't say I make a regular habit of staggering through the town centre smelling of vino (honest), I've definitely been guilty of the occasional post-girly-lunch shopping trip. Drunk shopping is always an adventure. After all, you suddenly believe that you are 10x richer than you actually are, and whilst this is particularly dangerous for your bank balance, it is also a rather thrilling experience. The biggest offender in my 'drunk purchase' category was a Spongebob Squarepants t-shirt in a size 16. Firstly, I am no fan of talking square sponges, secondly, I am not 12, thirdly, yellow is not a colour that my milky white body can pull off, and fourthly, for some wild and unexplained reason (I eat like I have a stomach the size of Mars), I am a size 10. Note to self- stick to girly lunches at the harbour, where bustling town centres are not a seductive temptation.
Finally, I seemed to have mastered a 'not-such-a-bargain' collection. After a stern telling off from my best friend, I realised that '50%' off is only a bargain when it's '50%' off of something you actually need. For a girl who has been described as fairly intelligent, I can often be very silly and stupid.
From now on, I vow to be a more savvy shopper, and will arm myself with a list, and an adequate level of common sense before embarking on any shopping trip. My wardrobe is now a beautiful place, full of the 35% worth of items that I actually wear. It is an incredibly simple concept, and I can't wait until my next shopping spree, where I will take great pleasure in saying things like 'You make me look fat, you disgraceful blend of cotton. You are not coming home with me!' Also, Ryan, if you're reading, I now have enough space for you to climb into my wardrobe and surprise me with kisses when I go to change later today. Ta very much!
PS: You may like to know that during discussed clearout, I also found a tin of sweetcorn, a rusty spoon, a remote control, and the pair of tobacco-coloured knitted socks that mysteriously disappeared last winter.