The unbearable lightness of... writing down your wardrobe

How i recorded every single garment, pair of shoes, and accessories I own, all 242 of them, and how that changed my life

I like to tell myself that I have my fashion consumption habits under control and that my consumption today is starkly different from ten years ago. I switched to second hand for most of my garments, shoes, and bags. I choose carefully when it comes to stockings and socks, to buy from responsible brands. As to underwear, I went as far as to create my own line that I am certain of (Well Rounded is finally launching in March!👉 www.well-rounded.eu). Most importantly, I buy significantly fewer pieces than I used to in my twenties.

New York, 2013. Bloomingdale's sales were my magnet 🧲

But for years, despite going through several decluttering rounds based on Marie Kondo’s method, I dreaded counting my stuff. I sorted, I donated, I transformed, I sold second hand. I figured the colours and models that work for my colour type and body shape. I figured that I actually only love “natural” fabrics, like cotton, wool, silk, and cashmere - and “naturally” phased out anything polyester or acrylic from my closet. My wardrobe transformed a lot, it became intentional, matching, and beautiful. But counting how many things are in it was always a big psychological no no for me for some reason.

Having gone through a series of what we call in research “life changing events”, including the birth of my child and seven moves, including changing three counties, I am now in a relatively “calm” and steady phase when I could finally face my wardrobe.

So in January, I finally counted my garments. And it had the most wonderful, unintended therapeutic effect on me.

What I did

• I cleared a Saturday and started early. I put everything out of my closet on the bed. The usual Marie Kondo routine.👇👇👇

• I took my laptop and started an Excel spreadsheet to record the audit of my wardrobe. The number of columns evolved as I added features that were important for me, like fabric composition or opportunities for upcyling.

• I meticulously recorded every single garment, with the exception of underwear and socks - as I was putting them back into the closet, in a bag for repair / upcyling, to resell, donation bag, or trash.

• The following weekend I did the same for shoes and bags. Then for scarves, hats and gloves. It took a lot of time but it was so worth it.

What I counted

167 garments (plus 28 to resell, donate or throw out);

41 pairs of shoes (plus 18 pairs to resell, donate or throw out);

9 bags (plus 6 bags to resell, donate or throw out);

25 accessories (plus 7 items to resell, donate or throw out).

Total wardrobe: 242 pieces (plus 59 items to resell, donate or throw out)

Holy guacamole 🥑

How it felt

Knowing “my number” had an empowering and liberating effect on me. For years, I was worried I would be in shock and feel ashamed of the amount of stuff I own. But what I actually felt was “I AM IN CONTROL. I OWN MY SH.. STUFF!”

Writing down every single item helped me reconnect with each of them, take a moment or two to dedicate to each piece and to reflect “Do I like it? Does it fit me? Why don't I wear it more often? How can I repair or upcycle it? Why am I keeping it?”

I remembered every item I own. I tried them on. I thought of styling combinations that didn't occur to me before.

Don't laugh but, as a True Nerd, my proudest moment was that I created a database! I now had the power to categorize and group stuff all I wanted. Select anything green in my wardrobe? Two clicks. Select all evening wear? Two clicks. List every item that has upcyling potential (for the moments I have this inspiration)? One click.

This experience also created a sense of completeness and a strong desire to NOT ADD anything or almost anything else. I did identify a few “gaps” that emerged as my style evolved over the recent years, which created a perfect basis to plan my purchases for this year's Rule of 5 experiment that I am committed to. But overall, knowing that with every new addition come Excel spreadsheet updates, I am definitely more reluctant to succumb to impulse.

How does this compare?

As a fashion consumption researcher, I naturally was curious about how my wardrobe compares to that of others.

Research on wardrobes is consolidating as we speak, with a recent collective volume on wardrobe methods edited by Kate Fletcher shining light on many exciting projects and analytical tools that help understand what is in our closets. I am looking forward to reading more studies soon that rely on more unified methods - including such seemingly simple questions of what counts towards a wardrobe and what doesn't (underwear drawer anyone?).

Based on the numbers already available, we know that an average wardrobe in the Global North today consists of roughly 174 garments (this is from research of Irene Maldini in the Netherlands).

Which means I am somewhat an average middle class millennial girl living in an average wealthy country.

But if we look at the benchmarks of sustainability, our research with Hot or Cool indicates that a wardrobe of a person like myself should contain more around 84 garments and adding no more than 5 new pieces (garments or pairs of shoes) per year.

Pam Pam Pam Paaaaaaam… someone is in overshoot here😬😬😬

My own research and that of my wonderful colleagues, including Prof. Cosette Joyner Martinez from Texas State University, shows that people who own and use fewer garments report higher levels of subjective well-being. In other words, less but better, more curated stuff makes you happier - and it's good for the planet. In the sixties, a wardrobe of a Parisian woman reportedly counted roughly forty items, including shoes - and those ladies were style icons 🤩

Size matters

We know that people accumulate stuff at different rates depending on their life phase. In conversations with Prof. Ingun Klepp from OsloMet at a conference last year, I learned about how women in Norway in the 19th century used to accumulate garments pretty much until their early twenties, as their dowry. After that, clothes was repaired, retailored, repurposed - but few to no new garments were purchased.

Today, people buy the most in their late teenage and in their twenties, as they go through experimentation with their identities, style, and life roles. By mid thirties, consumption volumes remain high (millennials grew up being accustomed to disposable fashion) but here creeps in the problem of space.

You see, we all imagine a walk in closet with neatly organised shelves as we buy compulsively things we don't need:

But the truth is, most of our closets today have limited storage capacity as living space did not increase according to our insatiable appetite for new clothes. So many of us rather find ourselves standing every morning in front of something like this:

Jokes aside, limited storage space, IMHO, is the ultimate driver of the intensified material throughput of our closets.

But despite the limited storage space, we found a guilt free way to release our wardrobes from unwanted excess that comes with a bonus of feeling good about ourselves: donations.

My empty closet for a moment during the clear out 2024.

I won't speak here on how this is misguided but if it’s a new topic for you, google “waste colonialism” to know more.

My point is only that this new disposal infrastructure allowed women in their thirties, forties and beyond to buy buy buy and “renew” their wardrobes at the speed of sixty new garments per year.

So we live with inflated wardrobes that look more like a transient train station than an exclusive club (I'm borrowing here someone else's metaphor from the internet that I think is spot on).

So is a large wardrobe a bad thing?

One of my favourite stories from Irene Maldini’s PhD journey on Dutch wardrobes was a story about wardrobe size. As Irene was presenting her findings at a webinar of the International research network on Sustainable Fashion Consumption a few years back, she asked participants: “Who do you think had the largest wardrobe in my sample?”

Some people (myself included) said: “Women in their 20ies who are not aware of / don't care about sustainability issues in fashion.” Others proposed other ideas.

But then Irene said that people with the largest wardrobes (up to 400+ garments!) are… women 35+ who care deeply about sustainability!

⚡Ta-da⚡

They justify having such large selection by saying that they had accumulated it over the years and sometimes wear garments after them being dormant for years. Fashion comes back, and instead of buying new outfits every decade, they keep their old stuff they know suits them.

Elementary, Watson!🧐

Minimalism and voluntary simplicity are wonderful approaches and they work well for some people. But these are not the only “sustainable” options out there. One can downsize by donating to a neat small wardrobe of sixty garments but replace fifty of them on a yearly basis. Or one can start with 400 garments and buy five new per year.🤷🤷🤷

So having looked honestly at my wardrobe last month, I realised that I love it. I love all garments that I keep, including a few that I do not have occasions to wear often - but I like the warm feeling of knowing that I can if I want to. They are not ghosts to me, I remember them and I cherish them.

So what if it is more than 84? These garments are already mine, and keeping and using them longer prevents me from buying new things (remember - Excel spreadsheet 😅).

When speaking about a “sustainable wardrobe”, I believe we should really focus on how much we add and discard every year (a dynamic feature of the system) as opposed to the number of garments we own (its static state).

That being said, IMHO, knowing YOUR number is critical for a healthy relationship with our wardrobe. You need to know what you already have, like, and wear to plan your acquisitions, new / second hand / gifts / hand me downs, whatever.

Let me know in comments if you had or have a fear of counting your stuff. Why is this the case, do you think? How did you manage / plan to overcome it?