The Circle of (My Wardrobe's) Life...

Oxfam to Ofam, Barnardos to Barnardos. All clothes reach the end of their time, and we must accept it with grace and dignity.

Unless you're me and still own a 6 inch long sequin boob tube from 1994 'for layering'. I'm not particularly good at the old charity-shop-clear-out. I have to be in a very particular mood, and even then I have to cajole and force myself. Then fight against the tide of over-think that has me wondering 'but what if...?'  about things I am definitely going to be able to replace, should the (deeply unlikely) situation arise where an item in that colour/size/style becomes vital to the well being of the universe.

But I have to do it. And do it, I did. The first thing I did was get out all my tops and non-vintage-or-designer dresses and arrange them in an orderly manner on my bed:

And that's not all...

Yes, I have a problem.
But I'm dealing with it.

You will note, that pile was just the little shelves.
Yes, I am like a nanna who puts soap in her wardrobe.

And that doesn't include the spare-room rail...

That was the easy part (I lie, I was already wondering about how to rescue my 'Don't hassle the Hof' Baywatch t-shirt). I called my sister for advice: she said keep it for housework/gardening -I like this steady thinking, I already keep some brandy to hand for medicinal purposes, natch. I don't even have a garden, but I can wear it to drink beer on the fire escape (so USA/NYC. Or so LDN/NW10, which is closer to the truth, all be told).

Anyway, I haven't got that many photos of the painful process. I did manage to fill an over sized Uniqlo carrier bag and one of those string-handled Jane Norman ones. Some items I have already 'homed' with friends and relatives (well, they might not go to a suitable home otherwise- OK, OK, I personify my clothes). I have a handful of shots with quips from His Lordship, enjoy:

You can imagine the look of disapproval on his face
at my not-always-vintage tat using this photographic image, if you wish.

Quoth His Lordship: "It was not acceptable in the 80s, nor is it acceptable today."

"Festival chic? Festival s**t more like, bet she's got no knickers on..."

"Cider and Black's half price down the student bar on 80s metal night..."
(NB: if this the case I would be down the local uni like a shot. Epic sarcasm fail, my love, epic sarcasm fail).

We differed on this one: I remember it in its glory-days of 80s metallic fantasy.
Husband prefers it 'worn in' and advised me to match it with equally worn-in 70s denim shorts.

There was one final item I wanted to share. This one was not given away. It's my favourite 70s jersey tank top (i.e. a vest) - St Michael and just perfect 70s earth tones. With a rather un-PC logo as part of the design:

St Michael: a good, retro, family brand

You'll note that with the innocent adverts for 'ice cold drinks', 'icecream'
and 'parking' my shirt also encourages the purchase of 'cigarettes'.
You wouldn't get that today, probably for the best eh?

So, am I alone in my struggles? Do others donate willy-nilly? Does anyone else have a partner who has way more taste and vintage purity than they? And, would you like some lotion for your stinging eyes after seeing my disgraceful wardrobe hell...?

Wishing y'all a blessed Holy Week and a very happy Easter!