This weekend I spent a number of hours sorting through clothes. Ruben’s, Adelaide’s and my own. (I choose not to touch Michael’s – despite the fact he wears around 15% of what he owns, he feels very comfortable with the variety he chooses not to look at).
During this purging and organising process, I came to a couple conclusions:
1. Family who do hand-me-downs are to be cherished.
2. The majority of my wardrobe is a collection of second-hand items. And I am very comfortable with that fact. (Side note: Is it wrong to label op-shopping as generous charitable giving?)
You don’t need to spend a lot of money to have style.
I am slowly working on cultivating a wardrobe that has 99% functionality (1% reserved for items with sentimental value; I’m looking at you, multicoloured stripey knee-highs and probably you too, techno satin flares).
Maybe it’s a sign of my strolling into a new decade this year, but I find myself less thrilled by hot wedges and more interested in spunky skate shoes. Simplicity and function. And a squeeze of funky.