This week I decided to knuckle down and embark on the painstaking task of streamlining my wardrobe. You know the drill - separating everything into three categories: things to keep, things to chuck and things to put in the loft in case they ‘come back’, and hey, if it can happen to neon and leggings, it can happen to a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g.

Things to keep. Well that’s pretty simple. It’s the things I live and die in (and not to mention sleep in). Gone are the days when I would wear something once and put it away for posterity. Now I wear it, wear it again, maybe wear it again the next day, possibly sleep in it, and (depending on its fleece content) walk the dog in it before peeling it from my back and boiling it in the washing machine. It’s ugly but it’s the truth.

Things to chuck. This was not as simple as it should be. This bundle should contain clothes that no longer fit, garments that are dated, and things that I bought whilst taking a momentary leave from my already questionable sartorial sanity. The trouble is that things that no longer fit might fit again, and with a wardrobe that ranges from size 6-16 I’m being as delusional as I am pessimistic. Dated looks could become a la mode - see previous comment on neon and leggings - and those ridiculous items, well, at least they make my wardrobe look a bit fun should anyone happen to take a peak (I will admit to previously arranging my wardrobe for the benefit of ‘passers-by’ but as ever the footfall through my bedroom remains on the light side).

So inevitably everything ends up in the loft. In anticipation of this I went through several bags of clothes that I have in storage at my Mum and Dad’s to make room for the next batch of stuff to take its place…I’m not going to clutter up my own loft after all. Going through those bags was akin to flicking through a photo album in terms of the memories that rose up out of the rags and haunted me like the ghost of fashions past. Despite not seeing these clothes for eons I have an encyclopaedic knowledge of where I bought everything from. The dress that I wore THAT night out in Romford – don’t judge, I was 16 (£20 from the Vestry in Lakeside), the trousers that I wore in Venice and felt amazing in (£35 from Warehouse), the dress that I bought in Sydney because it was a size 6 and fitted ($69 in the sale from the Broadway).

I ended up feeling so nostalgic that I’ve brought the clothes home with me and they’re upstairs now in my wardrobe. So I’ve ended up with more clothes than I started with, which leads me to think that my wardrobe really needs to be streamlined…