The Closet: Thoughts on curation, permission, and the taking up space
When I wrote recently about my entryway here on Substack, I thought about creating more posts around each room of the house, and each spot, because we all have invested so much time into figuring out our spaces, and most of us have lived long enough, and in enough apartments and homes, to know that every space gives us a new opportunity to rethink how we use it. And even if we’ve lived in the same house for years, as I have lived in this home currently for 11 years, there are still new ways to use a space that we’ve occupied for quite some time.
In fact, I encourage it.
Today, I want to get into the closet. And then come out again. And see what we can do to reshape it a bit, to like it more, and a fresh way to think about what’s in it and how de-cluttering can be viewed less like a chore and more like a blessing.
In many ways, at least to me (because I think a lot about a lot and often most of it only makes sense to me), but every closet is a small autobiography, part catalog, part confession, loads of memories, stories of what we share, what we hide, what we wish for (that often never fits), what we hate (that often always fits) and stories that are never quite finished or that are yet to happen.
Slide a hanger to the left and you uncover summer in Paris getting a little tipsy on wine with your girlfriends, nudge a boot box and the memory of a day spent apple picking in New Hampshire shuffles forward, asking whether you’ll ever go back to New Hampshire again, and if so, would you repeat that day if you could. Feel the cool touch of your favorite white linen dress and recall the salty air and filtered light as you roamed the beach in Denmark collecting stones with your little boy.
Some items shout, others whisper, but all of them, whether pressed, folded, crumpled or crammed into a corner, compose a running commentary on who you have been and who you think you might yet become. And they hold a lot of stories that are about to happen - because so much stuff hasn’t happened in your life yet that will, and you have to wonder what you’ll be wearing when those big memories are being made. Or, in some cases, what big stories are not going to be made because you wore something so dreadful just because it fit (please get rid of it).
When my son was little, during Corona times, I arranged my 55 pairs of shoes into neat rows on the bedroom rug, as I decided what to keep and what to donate or toss. Having a young child around plus the unbearable lockdown, gave me a lot of time at home doing random shit, mostly as he napped. I remember the shock of seeing my shoes laid bare like that, stripped of context, judged solely on whether or not I would ever wear them again, if they were still even stylish, if they even fit after gaining nearly a whole shoe size (even after losing all of my pregnancy weight). In ten minutes, I figured out what I had ignored for years with 55 pairs jammed into my wardrobe: half were aspirational fantasy (aka kitten heels, stilettos, sexy heels, boots for my slimmer calves), the other 40% was worn by the former version of me, pregnant, working a lot, always in trainers and ballet flats. Only about 10% of those shoes represented present-tense Holly, so about 6 out of 55 pairs of shoes were ones I’d wear again.
That truth set off a buzzer in my brain. Instead of stuffing the closet fuller, I began to remove things, not just shoes, but clothes, bags, and even accessories. And no, not in a one-day, but steadily, item by item, editing until every piece felt like the me I am, or the me that I aspire to become. What remained felt lighter, but also sexier; while others felt preppy and sporty, like the younger me from my teen years in Lacoste with denim jackets and colorful little handbags. I could hear my own voice again. I started to see a small glimpse of my personality and style poke through. I got rid of 45 pairs of shoes, kept 10, and didn’t regret a thing.
I recently cleaned out my son’s closet, he had outgrown a lot of his hoodies and shirts and I reduced his closet from about 50 items to 15. Have less feels like a luxury, not the kind measured in price tags, but in having exactly what you know you need and nothing more. Negative space keeps the eye calm and the mind free; it also reminds you that acquisition is optional. Each gap in your closet becomes an open invitation to breathe rather than buy.
In a culture that equates abundance with living large and security, deliberately leaving space in drawers and closets unfilled can feel rebellious, almost decadent, and honestly - it makes me feel free and not stuck in the prison of STUFF. We are not doing the planet any good with all of these stupid influencer hauls from the cheapest, stupidest online shops - mostly based in China. I frankly love that France just clamped down on this by banning influencers from promoting ultra-fast fashion brands. I hope more countries do that same.
Tonight, if you can spare ten minutes, stand before your closet, or if you can, literally step in if it’s that kind of closet, and allow yourself to explore. Smell. Touch. Listen. Notice where the eye stops and where it avoids to look. Then remove one item whose story you have already finished telling, and slide the neighboring hanger into its place. Listen again. Do you exhale? That single gesture is not a de-cluttering tip or something out of a Marie Kondo book; it’s a permission slip, proof that a closet can evolve as you do and that sometimes you need to cut the crap and dish the too-small cocktail dress. Maybe its time to discard a few old memories (that wedding dress from your first marriage?) and make way for some new white space - and later, something new, or vintage/thrifted, to fill it.
A well-curated wardrobe will never solve the greater puzzles of how we see ourselves, or how we feel about our bodies, but it can make space for you to stop tripping over yesterday’s memories, old versions of yourself, and stuff that makes you feel less than. And most of all, to make new space for clothes that you can again enjoy sipping wine in Paris, collecting rocks along the beach in Denmark, or apple picking in New Hampshire.
Love,
Holly
You've inspired me Holly to take a good look at my closet instead of grabbing what I need, and with a sigh or an uggg closing the door! It's a place that holds so many conflicts about who were were and who we are and my relationship status with it would be "it's complicated." 😝 I think it's a great idea to take a good look at what's making us uneasy or defeated in there and just let things go! Looks like I have my weekend plans now, I'll keep you posted!