The other day, I had a few friends visit my new flat for dinner. They arrived, I shuffled them swiftly through to the living room, and stoically rejected the smattering of requests for the ‘grand tour’. And tbh, that’s pretty much how all of my hosting duties play-out.
Why? Well. The thing is… I’m currently between organisational systems… Aka in a giant mess rn.
I’d love to think I am one of those people who have the capacity and drive to punctuate the seasons with a massive wardrobe re-shuffle, or even that person who has achieved the elusive ‘capsule wardrobe’.
My mum is one of those people. For as long as I can remember, mum has marked the changing seasons with a mass exodus of wooly knits from the wardrobes she ‘shares’ with dad (I believe he has a drawer and like two hangers) to be replaced by summer separates, and vice versa. I have no earthly idea where the summer wardrobe goes during winter, nor the winter wardrobe in summer, it is just one of life’s many mysteries. But with the increasing pressure to prove that my flat extends beyond the immediate hallway and living/dining room, I’ve decided to do something about my organisational ‘mare.
I think the tidiness failings are almost a repression of the extreme need for diligence both in the Army and at Marie Claire. Each year – I think around March – at MC we would prep and shoot 6 issues of main beauty content in one two-week trip to somewhere hot and amazing. As assistant, my role was to pull clothes from stores / brands / designers, based on the inspo tears my director was feeling. The seventy million pieces we loaned for the shoot had to be logged as arriving at the office, sorted and listed for the carnet (government form required when taking high volumes of product through boarder control), then returned to the correct places once the shoot wrapped. It was literal hell. I still have nightmares about rooting through the literal clothes mountain to find one illusive vest, sock, or whatever we couldn’t find that particular day.
So when I left to go freelance, I also left ANY desire whatsoever to be organised. Or that’s my excuse, anyway.
Back to the present, and I think the first step has to be a wardrobe cleanse. I’m pairing back and getting rid of things I genuinely don’t need / use / like, and making space for what I really love. On hangers. Not the floor. And not shoved behind the door in the hope that the washing fairy really does exist.
My absolute wardrobe staple is boxy tees. The baggier the better, and if they have a fun slogan / logo we’re on to a winner. These are my current faves.
All tees available at FemmeLuxe.