'I have come to the sad realisation that my wardrobe will never have cognitive function, and will never sort out my clothes for me'.
Flicking through magazines, I am often drawn to adverts for detox retreats. A routine of waking up, slipping on Speedos and going for a revitalising swim in a fjord, before breakfasting on cabbage soup and nettle tea, and eventually emerging cleansed and refreshed- albeit a couple of thousand pounds poorer- is utterly appealing. But I know my limitations, and as I tend to read such adverts while sipping cappuccinos and eating profiteroles, I am shamefully aware that it is unlikely that I’ll head to such a retreat. Ever.
There are many reasons to be jealous of Belle from Beauty and the Beast. She gets to sojourn in an ensorcelled castle, is served dinner by a talking candlestick and serenaded by a singing teapot. But by far the most envy-inspiring aspect of Belle is this: she has an enchanted wardrobe that selects clothes for her. I have come to the sad realisation that my wardrobe will never have cognitive function, and will never, therefore, sort out my clothes for me. And so- in order to appease my conscience over not detoxing myself- I decided, instead, to detox my wardrobe.
A wardrobe detox gives you the perfect opportunity to rid your closet of items you’ve worn so often that they’re now past their best. And you can ruthlessly throw out items you’ve never worn and-let’s face it- you never will. But it also provides an excuse to get rid of clothing that brings back horrific memories, like that Religion vest that you wore on that night out with the Sangria, Sambuca and freestyling to The Vengaboys. Ahem. And best of all, wardrobe detoxing is a guilt free process, as it is carried out in the name of purification.
What’s more, clearing out unwanted garments brings greater social benefits. While I may look at my some items with a sense of why-did-I-buy-this bewilderment, they’ll, hopefully, bring in money for my local hospice when I hand them in to the charity shop. A wardrobe detox, therefore, gives you an immediate feeling of self satisfaction and helps others in the process, whereas the most you’ll get from a detox retreat is a Wheatgrass shot and a colonic.
The concept of detoxing your wardrobe, however, should come with a warning. You have to ensure that you are able to replace any necessities that you throw out. Thus, I- in this time of recession and escalating student costs- decided against detoxing my underwear drawer, as it’s far too cold to go commando at this time of year.
Belle may be fortunate enough to have a footstool that is actually a dog, but I guess that I should be thankful that my wardrobe will remain a wardrobe and not turn back into an opera singer once the spell is broken. It saves me a trip to Ikea.
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