What It Feels Like To Part With My Clothes
A live shopping sale, how I navigated letting go, another sale, and more...
If you missed the last Neverworns Live! Shopping sale, a home-runway extravaganza deliciously mentioned by Puck,
’s Feed Me, and ’s The New Garde, don’t fret! I will host Neverworns Live! Shopping sales on Whatnot every other Sunday and some in between. This week at 7pm on Sunday January 26, I’m hosting a killer solo sale of a former assistant of a certain former editor-in-chief who has a Prada bag, Comme pieces…and more designers she is offloading, along with some unseen vintage from me. Follow me here to shop.This past week, I held a NEVERWORNS Live! Shopping sale at my home. I invited a gaggle of gorgeously dressed girls (and guys!) to view my wardrobe, which I was parting with, as a mini runway show. Substack’s most fab
was one of the killer models, as was my former colleague Lucy Dolan-Zalaznick. If you weren’t marinating on one of my couches, there was a live bidding component, so people could attend virtually and shop from afar on my page on Whatnot.This was the first stage of truly cleansing my closet. For years, I’ve long cleansed–and filmed the innards–of other people’s closets, specifically about clothes they do not wear. So, what does it feel like to come to terms with my zaftig closet bursting with my own NEVERWORNS? Harrowing! Gutting! It’s as if I’m severing my pinky finger. But it’s worth it. The finger is stagnant and rotting. It’s time to let go.
My closet cleansing methods are a series of steps and questions. First, I always start small in the most visible section. Just a slice! Just the tip! Simple, right? Well, not so much. Then, there are the come-to-Jesus questions: when was the last time you wore this? Then, there are the follow-up questions: what was your emotional state when you bought it? Was it a gift? Was there a sale? Were you shopping with friends? Was the piece for a vacation? Don’t tell me you were at a…sample sale!? Quelle horreur!
I used the same questions to thoughtfully go through my own closet. Throughout the process, I realize I’m afflicted with the same syndromes that I’ve doled out to others. I’ve had froth-at-the-mouth Label Dickmatization aka it feels like I’m mainlining dopamine when I see anything Tom Ford-era Gucci. I’m a sartorial schnorrer aka a Repeat Offender who gobbles up rare designer doubles. I always buy that inexpensive leather jacket–or two–thanks to a sudden bout of Price Wasn’t That Bad Brain. I have Nostalgia Grail Reflex whenever I see a juicy Celine Boogie bag that is the epitome of throw-caution-to-the-wind with no zip. And please, don’t get me started on Mommy Issues Hoarding