My wardrobe has been in this weird state of flux for a long time. In fact, other than my freshman year of college when I blissfully wore pjs or flowing long skirts, I haven’t really felt settled in a wardrobe since that growth spurt hit in 6th grade when I shot up 6 inches in one year. Most of that year was spent sleeping, falling down stairs, tripping on my feet and being all things gangly.
At the start of my first semester of graduate school I did not own a single pair of pants, which made crawling around on therapy mats for pediatric occupational therapy labs difficult. I bought a pair of khakis.
When my first full-time internship at an adult psychiatric ward started I realized it was time to bid my purple fauxhawk, small earring plug, and hippie skirts adieu as I dove into the workforce as an occupational therapist.
My first job at an outpatient neuro rehab clinic saw a slew of plain colored polo shirts join the ranks.
Then with our move to England and my few months spent working at White Stuff, my wardrobe had this steady flow of outfits thanks to the allowance the company provided to ensure the girls modeled each new line.
The following year we moved to California where little Dellabug came into our lives and after a short twelves months we were on to Indiana for nine months. Then we packed up everything that had been scattered here and there for years and moved it all up here to Wisconsin to finally settle down…
My current wardrobe still represents all those times, but it is not really a representation of my life now.
It needs a little help, not necessarily with adding MORE, but definitely with whittling down to LESS. CatholicAllYear said it perfectly “Having a closet crammed full of clothes that I can’t wear is just plain depressing.”
So now I’m off to tackle my wardrobe to sort out a spring/summer capsule. Hopefully I will take pictures and tell you how it goes.