I distinctly remember bragging in high school and college about how many shoes I owned.
“My grandma owned at least 100 pairs. It’s in our genes,” I said.
As if consumerism was a desired trait that’s passed down the generations.
I moved 11 times in 6 years (college + early 20’s = packing up your life every spring). I became a professional at packing. I had a specific duffle bag for my shoes and another bag for the clear shoe boxes and lids that I stored each pair in. And yes, the boxes were labeled.
I love how stilettos look and probably had a pair to match every formal outfit. Maybe even two. I had multiple pairs of black heels because I wanted the pair that looked “just right.” However, my feet don’t like heels, in fact, they despise them. My toes go numb and my arches ache, and that pain lasts into the next day where my knees, and hips decide to join the pain parade.
Needless to say, wearing heels to any event other than a dinner party isn’t a great choice for me.
But I continued to purchase them.
Why?
“Oooo these are so cute!”
“They’re more comfortable than my other ones.”
“These would go perfectly with that dress.”
Each move I would purge some items. Things I didn’t like, or things I did like but felt guilty for not wearing them enough. I’d donate them or see if any friends had an interest.
“Someone else will enjoy them,” was the soothing narrative I told myself. I’ve since learned that a very small percentage of donated clothes are actually purchased by consumers*. Although, I think ThredUp, Poshmark, and other online second-hand retailers have broken down the barriers and stigmas to buying used.
I made it through 9 moves–8 for college and one with my family–rather unfazed by the amount of stuff I owned. The place I moved into for my 10th move was the largest space I had since high school. A big bedroom and a walk-in closet. Cue the singing angels and beacons of light from heaven. I had space to hang up all the shirts, pants, sweaters, dresses, vests, and jackets I wanted! and I neatly stacked all my shoes in their clear boxes. Perfectly organized.
Although my closet looked pristine, I felt stressed. Every time I had to pick out an outfit. I’d think the cliche line, “I don’t have anything to wear.”
The truth was that I had plenty to wear, I was bombarded options and emotional baggage was woven into some of the seams.
I got the point where I would rotate through a few reliable outfits and leave the rest of my closet to collect dust. Although this cut down on my time getting ready, I began to feel guilty about all the clothes I wasn’t wearing.
All the fun in putting together outfits and trying new combinations was gone. The joy in creating my own style had dissolved.
After a few months of being guilt-tripped by my wardrobe, I found Marie Kondo. I listened to The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up (shout out to Libby!) and finally was able to put words to the stress, dread, and guilt I was feeling.
So I jumped in head first!
I took out every single item I owned: pants, skirts, shirts, bras, sweaters, socks, swimsuits, pajamas, belts, hats, purses, jewelry, jackets and of course shoes.
I touched every item determined if it sparked joy and then sorted it into keep, donate, or trash piles (I tried to only trash underwear or items that were so far gone, but since then I’ve learned there are lots of ways to upcycle old clothes!). Honestly, at first, I wasn’t sure about her method until I started the process of holding each item.
I wasn’t expecting clothes to carry emotions and memories. I had been avoiding wearing the clothes I wore most often before I lost weight because they reminded me of that season subconsciously. It wasn’t until I took the time to hold each item in my hands that I realized why I had been at odds with my closet.
It took a few rounds of holding, feeling, remembering, deciding, and sorting before I made it through my whole wardrobe. It probably took me a week to truly sort through it all.
Judging by pile size, I would say I reduced my closet by a third. Though I think I took it easy on my shoes.
That was two years ago.
I’m once again in a new house and I now work from home. I wear a lot of leggings and don’t wear “nice” clothes nearly as often.
As I begin to notice which items I wear most often, I think about my shoes.
They sit like awards on a shelf collecting dust. I probably wear 10 pairs throughout the year and would estimate that I own close to 25 pairs.
They weight me down. They are beautiful and stylish, but they don’t serve me, they just fill space. I’d rather wear flats now. I don’t want to inflict discomfort on my body for the sake of style. I’m all about comfort now.
I’m appalled when I think about how I used to flaunt the number of shoes I owned like it was a badge of honor.
I was so foolish and caught up in the consumerism that society preaches.
I don’t have to be dressed up for work and I don’t have that many formal events. I don’t need 25 pairs of shoes.
Through this ongoing and ever-changing relationship with my wardrobe, I see how the Lord is using this one area of my life to show me a greater narrative. How I live and the choices I make do impact my life and the world.
Can I purchase leggings second hand? I can and they will be much less expensive! Can I donate or consign those heels I’ve only worn once? Sure thing!
By donating, swapping with friends, consigning, and selling I’m giving a second life to something that was taking joy from mine.
I have reduced my shoe “collection”, not quite to my 10 most worn pairs yet, but someday I’ll be there.
Change is hard, whether it be combating consumerist tendencies or trying to start a workout routine. Being patient and graceful towards ourselves in so important as we journey to becoming who we’re created to be.
*Overdressed by Elizabeth L. Cline
