Katwalker: A time to purge
If a healthy body means a healthy mind, then a healthy wardrobe is the nearest thing any of us shallow fashion types will get to a work-out for the soul. With this in mind, and given the fresh start promised by a new financial year and the wise words of our own FraserLive, I have recently engaged in what is becoming a habit of sartorial purging, with the result that my wardrobe is a lot slimmer than previously, and far healthier than me.
The process was less painful than one of those de-toxing diets, all herbal pills and enough bottled water to turn me into a human jacuzzi. Not for me the seaweed wraps, boot camps, gruelling bouts of 'yogalates' and, dare I say it, furious intake of laxatives that are vital signposts on the road to self-improvement.
No, I've found that disposing of unwanted wardrobe items has proven more than enough to get my endorphins racing. For anyone who has not mastered the art of the wardrobe purge - here are some helpful tips gleaned from experience. Firstly, issue a moratorium on anything beige or pastel. Secondly synthetics are out; in other words nylon, acrylic, and anything that isn't real leather - if I totted up the cost of innumerable affordable Chinese handbags lurking in my closet, their heady faux-animal PVC pong redolent of compromise -- I could probably have afforded a Chloe by now.
Also banned are girly florals, boring shoes (how did all those black heels stay the distance for so long?) and anything 'street' (unless you are a brick wall or less than five years of age, wearing writing or sub hip-hop logos is a no-no).
Several eBay auctions later, what joy it is to have a wardrobe in which my 'good items' (all six of them) now dangle elegantly, helpfully proffering themselves to my fumbling fingers each morning.
Gone are the creased garments, wrenched from distraught wire hangers yet still propped up, like fainting passengers on a tightly packed commuter train, by their companions. And instead of a cheesy brew of single 'orphans', my footwear is arrayed in neat lines, infinitely more wearable now each shoe has found its pair. Needless to say, as a purging convert, I am surprised to learn that many retailers still fail to see the value of the ritual.
One boutique in my local area offers over-stuffed racks whose chaotic presentation is no doubt meant to say 'eclectic' but screams 'Salvos'. Another has adopted the ruse of 'disguising' regurgitated stock by dispensing with all her price tags, while a third has wheeled out the same items without markdowns for three years. 'The sooner you give in and buy that now-faded fake leather handbag, the sooner I'll be able to get more stock in, so hop to it!' seems to be the subtext of her rather terrier-like sales technique.
If only she knew, a quick purge and her head would be clearer, her stock would move and the world would be a much better place.