How to declutter your closet sustainably

I’ve been working in the fashion industry for more than 15 years, and along the way, I’ve collected my shiny prizes. But having lots of pretty things has never helped me get dressed. At one point I had close to 250 dresses in my closet, layered three to a hanger and stuffed so tightly together, you risked a hernia removing them. And yet I was sure I had nothing to wear. So I decided to use my professional skills to edit myself for a change. I started by trying on everything I owned. It took about five hours to zip, button, and shimmy my way through my wardrobe. I soon realized that I really didn’t like a lot of it. Sure, I loved the stories behind how I’d inveigled each item—the bag I bought with my first paycheck, the shoes I unearthed at an outlet. But actually, wearing some of them again? No chance. Rather than simply keep the pieces that spark joy à la Marie Kondo, I attempted to take my emotions out of the picture (after all, they’re what landed me in this mess in the first place). Versatility was of paramount concern. Which pieces had I worn at least 30 times, the number of wears deemed to be sustainable? Which ones worked with every sweater or shirt, and could see me through breakfast, lunch, and cocktails? I got tactical and tried to forget how much I’d spent on each item.

Anything dull, over-the-top, or just-not-entirely-me was nixed. Ever conscious of the environmental impact of discarding clothing (the Environmental Protection Agency estimates that Americans throw away 16.9 million tons of textile waste each year), I made a pledge never to put a single piece of fabric in the garbage and came up with a system of piles.

First, I put together a stash of the good stuff for a swapping party. There has to be an agreement that it’s about finding treasures in other people’s trash rather than attempting to swap like-for-like price. I bartered an oversize Jacquemus blazer for a perfectly sheer Chloé dress and a roomy Mulberry tote for an immaculate Loewe mini bag. Everything that wasn’t swapped I sent to a resale site. I also made a pile for repairs and found an incredible service to restore beloved high-end pieces, including my brutally scuffed Chanel pumps. The cost was steep (we’re talking half the full price), but it made sense to recondition them rather than double the fashion footprint. My litmus test was whether the loss would create a true hole in my day-to-day dressing options: Would I miss the item so much that I’d wind up buying it again?

From lower-cost items that didn’t (a) fit, (b) flatter, or (c) feel fundamental to any outfit, I made the largest pile. But instead of just dumping them at the nearest charity store, I got in touch with ethical and eco-friendly donation centres; Housing Works and Dress for Success are great options. The final pile, which was for anything torn or stained, went along with old towels, sheets, and underwear to a fabric recycling bin. I’m not going to lie and say that I felt immediately amazing at the end of all this because I didn’t. I actually felt a deep sense of regret. I started to worry that I was going to look drab and same-y in so few outfits. How would I ever cope with only one-third of my old wardrobe left? Luckily the stats gave me some perspective. Recycling industry experts have noted that we buy five times as much clothing as we did 40 years ago. In 1950, approximately 12 percent of a family’s monthly budget was spent on fashion. Today it’s closer to three percent, so we buy more, but not better. What’s more, it’s been estimated that we wear 20 percent of what we own 80 percent of the time, leading to a situation where many of us feel overwhelmed by the choices our overstuffed closets present us with on the daily. In my search for sustainability, I didn’t lose great pieces that defined my style—I just lost the ones that were holding me back. 
 

Katherine Ormerod is the author of Why Social Media is Ruining Your Life. Some of her closet essentials are:

9 cashmere knits (one round neck, one V-neck, and one turtleneck, each in charcoal, black, and camel, to cover every eventuality)

3 midi dresses (black, red, and printed)

4 pairs of jeans

1 red silk cocktail dress (or similar bombshell number)

1 black gown