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| Desperately trying to wish the crap away and failing. |
Hi, my name is Renie and I have a LOT OF STUFF.
When I say ‘stuff,’ I'm referring to the mountains of unworn clothes, untouched books and unused gadgets that live in my room, invades my life on a daily basis and that seem to follow me around everywhere in a bizarre Hansel and Gretel trail of doom.
I finally realised today why my room is never really tidy or neat like other people’s rooms, despite the fact that I feel like I’m constantly putting stuff back to where it should be, re-arranging piles, sifting through things and sorting them out. It’s nothing to do with me not making an effort; it’s just that there is TOO MUCH. OF EVERYTHING.
I can think of a gazillion things in my wardrobe I've bought on a whim and have never touched (for good reason too…they’re totally minging!) A perfect example of this is a Marc Jacobs cardigan I bought a while back which honestly makes me look a bit like that purple dude who used to hang out with Ronald Mcdonald but got axed because he was a criminal and Mcdonalds figured that glamorising crime wasn’t cool. I’m pretty sure it wouldn't look good on anyone unless they were around 6 feet tall and a size 6. I am never going to fit this criteria and I don’t even know what was going through my MIND when I bought it. Actually, on second thoughts, I think I do. I was probably thinking something along the lines of: ‘OMG IT’S MARC JACOBS, I LOVE MARC JACOBS, I LOVE CARDIGANS AND I LOVE PURPLE. BUY BUY BUY, OH WOW BARGAIN, MEGA BARGAIN!!’
There is no-one to blame but me for the fact that I have too much of everything. I’m a rampant, obsessive shopaholic. My friends know it, my family know it. Renie just loves to buy things. But now I’m almost slightly scared because my constant buying and craving of stuff is defining me as a person and I don’t think I’m entirely comfortable with that.
I guess I had a wakeup call coming. A close friend who I have known since forever told me that she thought I had 'spending problems' and that all I ever really talked about nowadays was that new bag/those new shoes/that new coat I really desperately wanted. She also pointed out that I was just as fun when I used to hang around in battered jeans and stupid t-shirts and thought that Proenza Schouler and Margiela were Italian cheeses/potential STIs and didn't freak out over things like labels and Italian craftsmanship. Owch.
I knew that she didn't mean it in a horrible way but the truth hurts. I'm pretty sure I'm never going to revert back to the old jeans and t-shirt Renie and I don't want to either. But it has made me realise that I need to curb the mad spending and focus on the important stuff. I've gotten to the point where I'm spending for the sake of it and I'm pretty sure no one actually needs fifty t-shirts, piles of denim, or enough pairs of shoes to crush/spike someone to death. I don’t even really like denim.
So anyway, the big plan is to declutter – by this I mean ACTUALLY REMOVING STUFF and giving it away to charity, friends and whoever wants it and not buying any more clothes, shoes or accessories for the rest of the year. Eek.
It’s going to be a crazy experience and the withdrawal symptoms aren’t going to be pretty but it’s really probably for the best before I end up like Billie Jean James, a lovely old lady in America who was a compulsive hoarder and was crushed to death by her own stuff. Yowzers.
P.S. I’ve just told my mother who a) burst out laughing with scepticism and still hasn’t stopped b) told me to sober up and stop drinking whatever I’m drinking. Encouraging stuff!
