Imagine walking around a room quietly, watching people take a test. Walk. Watch. Walk. Watch. Look awake, but don't bother anyone, they're taking a test. Walk. Watch. It's called proctoring and I used to do it for extra money. I do it now for regular money. And since I enjoy people watching, it's quite an interesting job for me. It gives me lots of time to think of very deep, soul-searching topics that I can meditate on while moving quietly about the room. Thoughts such as:
"If I got home and all my clothes had been somehow destroyed in a small and highly contained natural disaster in my closet, how much would it cost to replace them? All of them."
I came up with the figure of $1000, because let's face it, proctoring pays OK but it's not like performing brain surgery. With that wad of money, I would step into my favorite thrift store, flash my thousand dollars around and ask to see every single Talbots, Jones of New York and Ann Taylor item in the place. I may shop at thrift stores, but that doesn't mean I can't be a brand snob.
"If I had $1000 to spend, I wonder how many clothes that would buy?"
Assuming (thrift store prices here) jackets are $12, dresses $10, suits $20, coats $15, tops $8 etc., I came up with the number. 100 items of clothing.
"Forget the money, forget the closet disaster, can I whittle my clothes down to just 100 items?"
So after proctoring a 12 hour day, I came home and took everything out of my closet and sorted it according to categories. I had a burst of energy that lasted all the way thru the skirts. While I hate summer, it became apparent that I love summer skirts, because I had quite a few. Mostly Talbots. But instead of following the rule from The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up of Does it spark joy? I decided on another brilliant criterion.
Does it fit?
Does it look good on me?
If I took off the Talbots label would I still like it?
I eventually tried on every single item in my wardrobe. And then I stood in front of the mirror, because really, that's a big part of the trying-on process. I got another mirror and did the Does it still spark joy from behind? test also. Lots of clothes went bye-bye.
I got my wardrobe down to 96 items, including the pants I like to refer to as loungewear rather than yoga pants, jeans and other things I would wear in public if need be. I was so jazzed, there was room for four more summer skirts! Then my husband started riffling through my discard pile and pulled out 3 tossed tiems that were making his lower lip stick out with sadness, not joy. I relented and took them back into the fold, because I was still under the Life Changing Number of One Hundred. Then I remembered my four coats in the hall closet. Drats! I was at 103 items in my wardrobe. There is positively nothing magical about the number 103. It has no flow, no style. But that's where I'm at, 103.
|The Blue Bags of Shame, off to be donated.|