It’s 6: 30 am on a Monday morning and I’m standing in front of my wardrobe naked from the waist down excepting a pair of mismatched knickers. It’s been five minutes and I’ve already got tunnel vision. I’ve stared into many a textile black hole like this and never fail to feel overwhelmed by CHOICE.
There are clothes hanging here, swarms of them. So why do I have NOTHING to wear? My bedroom floor looks like a crime scene in which someone’s murdered style; limp evidence—the cast-offs from my latest get dressed attempt—lie limply around my feet.
Oh god, how many times have I done this? How many times have I sent my friends SOS texts at 6: 30 on a Monday morning begging for their opinion on WHICH OF THESE TWENTY-OVERSIZED-TEES SHOULD I WEAR?
ALL THE SAME BASIC COLOR BUT WHICH ONE WILL I PICK?
TOO LONG TO EXPLAIN IN A TEXT. HELP. We’ve all been there.
And yet, we put ourselves through it week after agonising week. Why? For me, it took months of hauling myself miserably to work wearing outfits I despised (late, sweaty, too tight, too loose, who knows) before I finally woke up and smelled the distressed jeans.
I called in sick that day. Turned around and marched straight home. Something had to change.
All my clothes were telling me was that they hated me. Literally nothing worked together. Or rather, too much did.
I couldn’t isolate one cozy shirt or sleek jumper to wear on its own without looking like I’d raided a random bin bin. My go-to was always the same: blazered dreamcape, worn jeans, fuss-free shoes. Every.
Single. Day. Which was boring.
And meant I never actually enjoyed getting dressed. My wardrobe was cluttered, my outfits stale. It was time for a wardrobe audit.
Now, I’ve emptied my wardrobe before. In fact, I’m pretty sure one of my Instagram posts inspired the whole #OOTDYELLOW challenge a few summers back. Remove all your clothes from your wardrobe.
Take each piece in turn, place it to your chest and ask: does this spark joy? If yes, wonderful! You’re halfway to Marie Kondo’s bank account.
If not? Say goodbye to your nearest and dearest slit-skirted lover. Problem was, I was only keeping the clothes that sparks didn’t quite reach.
Weird older sister garments that had slid quietly into my wardrobe over the years (hello again, sequined jumper we wore together to my 25th birthday party five years ago) but that I couldn’t bear to actually part with. And then I’d forget about them, hidden away at the back of my wardrobe and buy something new that served pretty much the exact same purpose. Next thing I knew I owned nothing but “special occasions” clothes and no shirts that weren’t embroidered with cats rocking thunderbolts.
And so, past trauma nursed firmly in mind, I went about my audit a little differently. No flying leaps into the wardrobe this time. I pulled out a notebook.
Cleared my schedule and got ready to take stock of every.single.piece.of.clothing I owned. Here’s how I did it, and how you can too. Before I even touched my wardrobe I sat down and made a list.
Not a fantasy list: the list where I live in regret-free circumstances and attend cocktail parties and splashy art openings several times a week. No, I meant the list of where I actually spend my time: office three days a week (business casual, obvs), working from home two days where all I wear is Estuary Mum Jeans™ and Carper tee shirts, weekend brunches, occasional nights out, wedding/elopement season, holiday makeup events etc. Writing this stuff down really brought home how little of my wardrobe was spent on “real life” clothes.
Once I’d exhausted the list of my everyday I moved onto things like workout gear, travel, orthopedic shoes etc. Not exactly a capsule wardrobe but a blueprint for one. Next, I took everything out of my wardrobe.
Yep. Everything. And sorted into categories as I went: work, casual, going out, exercise, etc.
As each armful left my wardrobe I recorded what I found. Eight tops that are all black. Twelve striped shirts.
SIX KNIT CARDIGANS. THREE OF WHICH I ACTUALLY LIKE. Deleting notes on my phone told me I owned enough jeans to rival Hippe jeans—but how many did I actually wear?
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Turns out, not many. A ride on the garment scan conveyor belt isn’t compulsory. But it sure makes things clearer.
Literally chucking on every single item of clothing you own and taking a good, hard look in the mirror can be a real reality check. Does it fit? When did you last wear it?
Does it go with at least three other things you own? Answering these questions as you try things on helped me cull another third of my wardrobe. Things that didn’t fit, things that looked like Thanksgiving had come early, things I didn’t actually like despite WHAT WERE YOU THINKING purchases I made years ago.
And anything I wasn’t absolutely sure about? In the SWIPESNAP bag it went. Here’s the crazy thing: the things I loved wearing—the ones that always came out of the wardrobe day after day and made me feel like bang-smelling chic—had things in common.
They were well-cut. Made from natural fabrics. Stayed inside a color palette of navy, cream, camel and varying shades of burgundy.
Anything that fell outside this magical unicorn had usually been a WANT COLOR PURCHASE: something I bought on a whim because it was cute but wasn’t quite “work appropriate” or matching enough to fit into my mainly-neutral wardrobe. The biggest thing I learned from my wardrobe audit? The things I was missing that would really MAKE MY WARDROBE POP.
No, not tangerine trousers or a neon green party shirt. But truly utility garments that would work with everything else I owned. In my notes I drew a line.
On one side: things I knew I needed to buy to round out my wardrobe. On the other: EVERY SINGLE THING IN MY WARRANTY THAT FIT INTO MY GOALS THEN I WOULD NOT BUY ANYTHING ELSE UNTIL I OWNED A VALID WAMROBE. Shopping with a plan became exhilarating.
Instead of trudging through the streets when I was bored/busy/staring listlessly at my phone I had a missions of finding THE PERFECT navy blazer with amazing tailoring. When that camel sweater I’d been living in for years finally tore on the sleeve I waited THREE MONTHS FOR IT TO COME BACK IN STOCK instead of buying something that “would do” in the meantime. That fabulous pair of red leopard print loafers I’m currently wearing?
Charity shop. £12. Gamechanger. Trying to get dressed became easier than ever.
I literally throw outfits together now. Because when every single piece of your wardrobe matches, coordinates and works with the next, getting dressed takes two minutes, not 45. I probably spend less on clothes now my wardrobe works than when I was blindly shopping to fill gaps that weren’t really gaps at all.
And best of all? I actually LOOK FORWARD TO GETTING READY NOW. I keep a running list on my phone of gaps in my wardrobe that come up during weekly outfit-planning.
If something wears out or rip beyond repair I immediately replace it with something I KNOW I WILL WEAR, rather than making do with “similar enough” off-the-peg garbage. And whenever I buy anything new I ask myself the ONE IN, ONE OUT rule so my wardrobe doesn’t become a dumpster fire of poorly planned purchases. Nothing too crazy.
But my shopping habits changed almost overnight. I no longer feel the urge to buy things on sale that don’t fit my wardrobe plan. I spend less time (and money!) browsing shops that aren’t cut well, and more time supporting ethical, independent brands that pride themselves on creating versatile pieces that ALWAYS FIT.
I’m that annoying friend who asks you “But what will you wear it with?” when you excitedly show me YOUR AMAZING PURCHASE. This is just what worked for me. You might have more formal events to get to.
Maybe you’re a creative who expresses themselves through their wardobe as much as the work you produce. But we all have one thing in common, dear reader: whatever happens when we open our wardrobes, it’s not happening because our clothes work for us right now. If you’re anything like me, your first wardrobe audit will take you an entire day.
But it’s worth it.
Start with a fresh slate. Wear comfy clothes and underwear you actually LIKE (trust me, you’ll be trying a lot of stuff on).
Take pictures of your go-to outfits as you think of them to refer back to later. And be honest about where you spend your time and what you actually need to wear to feel your best in it. What gaps are you filling by shopping?
And what, truly, are the gaps in your wardrobe? Imagine that feeling you get when you pull on your favourite jumper. The kind that hangs just right and makes you feel like YOURSELF when you put it on.
Now imagine feeling THAT about your entire wardrobe. Because when it works as hard as you do, getting dressed can be a pleasure. Not a chore.
Gap Auditing, baby.
