As far as tasks I enjoy, I would put 'cleaning out my closet' on par with going to the dentist.
It's a job I attend to about once a year, much like getting my teeth cleaned, in the hopes that doing it once and doing it well will stop me from the need for repeat visits.
Right now I don't like visiting my wardrobe. It's a place of chaos, overwhelm and shame. I'd like to change that.
And with a new year approaching, as the wise monkey Rafiki would say, it is time.
Watch as our fashion experts share their tips for taking better care of your investment pieces. Post continues below.
I recently stumbled upon — or maybe the algorithm subtly nudged me towards — content creator Aimee Reiff's Instagram series on mindful wardrobe decluttering.
It's a helpful resource if you're struggling to gain control over your closet, for any number of valid reasons.
Her mission is to help you sort through the "maybe pile", and get some clarity on what needs to go.
The third mini episode in Reiff's series focuses on the money guilt we attach to our past purchases, and how it can hold us back from moving on.
"I think we all have items in our closet that are gathering dust because we're not wearing them, but we spent good money on them so saying goodbye feels like a waste," Reiff says.
She goes on to pose a number of questions with the intent to help you decide whether it might be time to let go.
It was Reiff's first question that really struck a chord with me: "What lesson did this purchase teach me?"
If it sounds a bit spiritual for a wardrobe clean-out, stay with me. Her theory is actually grounded in common sense, and it can be applied as a vetting system — but you have to be prepared to be honest with yourself.
Because the best way to sabotage a closet overhaul is to tell yourself lies about why you "need" to keep things. Take it from me.
I have many maybe piles. Image: Supplied.
"Really put in the effort to figure out what exactly about the item isn't serving you," Reiff explains.
It might be the colour, the detailing on the garment, or that you should've bought a different size and the cut doesn't sit right.
Reiss says understanding the reasons you're not wearing a piece, or no longer reaching for it, can provide data that will help inform your future clothing purchases.
"If you wouldn't make the same mistake today knowing what you know now about yourself and your personal style, that's a valuable lesson that can make it easier to let go of that sunk cost," she concludes.
I sat with this idea for a minute, then walked to my wardrobe and slid open the door.
I was faced with garments hanging on the racks from 10 or 15 years ago, that I spent a good deal of money on back in my magazine days, when I was trying my hardest to look the part — investing in designer pieces like my big girl Stella McCartney shoes.
They did serve a purpose, once. But I don't wear any of those pieces today. I'm a 36-year-old mum to a toddler, working from home as a freelance writer, living by the beach.
What I wear 99 per cent of the time.
Most of the time my wardrobe requires me to be comfortable, relaxed, and somewhat put-together. What use do I have for a Camilla & Marc pencil skirt?
But that said, I understand why I've hung on to it.
The skirt cost a lot of money, especially back when I bought it on my meagre fashion writer salary.
I've attached not only a monetary value, but a sentimental one, to the skirt. And to a number of other items in my closet that are taking up valuable real estate, however not being worn.
In her video, Reiff has some follow-up questions to help challenge those of us who are holding on to pieces due to money guilt.
"Does keeping this item give me my money back?" she asks.
Reiff explains that if the cost is already spent, keeping it won't change that fact.
"Is this item adding value to my wardrobe by presence alone?" she adds.
When it comes to my skirt, as well as most of the other items from my publishing days, the answer is yes. I keep them because of the perceived value they hold, just by existing. Like my money is physically hanging there on the rack.
I keep them out of a sense of obligation. Not because they spark joy like they used to.
Some of us might attach feelings of guilt to clothing we wore before we had children, maybe when we were a different size, or when our style went through a phase that's since shifted into something else — something that feels more right for now.
An example could be an expensive pair of skinny jeans, or a former 'It bag' from a luxury label.
The silhouettes have moved on, but have we? It's good food for thought.
Finally, Reiff asks whether you could recoup some of the money by selling the item secondhand, and perhaps obtain some peace of mind in the process. This is definitely something I could do.
The truth is, I think my old work clothes represent a version of me I'm not willing to let go of. A me who'd like to step back into those shoes one day, but realistically, probably won't.
Or if I do, I'll be wearing different shoes.
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Feature image: Supplied.
