It’s hard to let go of our emotional attachment to clothes, particularly for those who work in the industry.
As a pre-loved collector (and sentimental girlie), I struggle to part with pieces in my wardrobe that have meant something to me at any given time. ‘But what if I’ll wear it again in five years?’, I think.
But still, I keep running into the problem of having too many clothes that don’t suit me anymore. It’s a universal experience, too. As we grow, our bodies change, our style evolves and we find ourselves needing to make room for newness. Most of us (with the exception of a lucky few) have limited wardrobe space, meaning we need to part with our clothing if we want to continue to explore our personal style.
For more on the circular economy, head to our Pre-Loved section.
It’s hard to let go of our emotional attachment to clothes, particularly for those who work in the industry. They may have been involved in the design, manufacture or marketing of a piece, or stumbled upon a garment during a pivotal time in developing their personal style.
With the stakes slightly higher (fashion people tend to form sentimental attachments to all clothing, not just their own), many professionals have developed solid strategies to know when it’s time to say goodbye. From pieces from their own collections, like Coreprêt and Joseph and James, to brands that shaped their personal style, like Silk Laundry and Deiji Studios, this is how Australia’s fashion professionals have learnt to say goodbye.
Maggie Zhou, freelance writer and content creator
Culling is a natural part of a wardrobe’s lifecycle. Every few months, I’m inspired to go through sections of my wardrobe to assess whether I want to keep pieces or not. My piles are usually divided into: keep, donate, give to a loved one, sell or try-on (to decide what to do with it). I often like to focus on one type of garment so it’s not too overwhelming, so I’ll tackle my jackets one day and pants another.
A garment will usually land in the donate or sell pile if it doesn’t fit me anymore, or if I haven’t reached for it in the last 12 months or so. I often give clothes to my sisters or friends too. If there’s a piece I’m unsure about, I’ll challenge myself to wear it that week. If I’m selling pieces, I’ll list them online on sites like eBay. I’ll donate to local op shops otherwise.
Nessie Croft, sustainability consultant and designer at Coreprêt
I’m someone who is quite attached to my clothing and I can build quite a strong emotional attachment to an item if I’ve purchased it somewhere special (like overseas), inherited it from family members or have taken the time to save up for a unique designer piece that I’ve aspired to.
The only time I’ve truly gotten rid of something I saved up for was by gifting it to my sister – so in reality it stayed in the family! But there comes a time when a garment or an accessory no longer sits with my personal style, and I have to question whether or not it stays in my wardrobe. For me, this can take quite a bit of time. I’m not someone to make a snap decision and get rid of a valued piece of clothing, but I do ask myself the question, ‘Will I wear this again?’. It’s simple and effective. If the answer is ‘no’ then I need that piece to find a new home.
Sometimes you reach a point when a garment no longer serves its purpose, maybe because of your matured style, functional degradation or you simply don’t like it anymore. When that happens, these are the ways I move on from a piece of clothing.
First, check that a garment has resale value. If yes, then seek out a resale platform like eBay or a nearby consignment store. At least here you can regain some of the money you spent but you’re also comforted by the knowledge that someone has bought your garment and will continue using it.
Second, if the garment has no resale value, can it be donated? If so, ensure the item is washed and, if needed, repaired. Then donate to your local charity shop. I must emphasise here that op shops receive such high volumes of donations, a lot never make it to the shop floor due to poor condition and quality. Make sure you give your items the best chance for a second life by ensuring they’re still good enough to wear.
If the garment is no longer suitable to wear, you have the option of textile recycling. This can involve sending it to places like Textile Recycling Australia or Upparel (who literally pick up from your house), or you could get in touch with your local animal shelter/rescue centre and check whether they need any linens or wool garments to help with rescue animals. (This doesn’t always work with clothes, but get in touch as this will extend the use of the garment before it is downcycled via textile recyclers). You can also recycle textiles at home, turning T-shirts into cleaning rags, for example.
Alternatively, if, like me, you have some creative skills when it comes to sewing, you could consider alterations or use the material for a whole new design.
Really think beyond the easy option of just throwing a garment out. In the current climate, we do need to start viewing clothes as valuable resources and not disposable commodities. You could also use the above as a guide for purchasing. Buy something that is good quality and that you know will have continued resale and reuse value, not something that will be worn a few times and end up in landfill.
Clare Press, writer and host of The Wardrobe Crisis podcast
For me, it has more to do with the questions I ask before I buy a new piece of clothing. These include: Is it clear who made this, where and under what conditions? Can I ask the brand and will they tell me? What’s the fabric? Is it a natural fibre? Will it wash and wear well? Do I really need to buy anything right now? Could I maybe borrow or rent it? Or just do without and get my kicks from going for a walk in the park instead?
Recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about the concept of ‘enoughness’. How much do we really need? How much can the planet take? Consumerism is out of control. We’ve all got too many clothes. A 2022 report by the Hot or Cool Institute titled Unfit, Unfair, Unfashionable revealed that if we’re serious about climate action, those of us in the Global North (rich) countries are going to have to drastically reduce our consumption. To keep global warming under 1.5 degrees, we can each buy just five new garments a year.
For me, personally, I never toss, clothes aren’t disposable. [Instead, I] remake, repair, repurpose, resell, gift, donate. For a long time (like, literally years) unwearable clothing piled up behind my home office door. This creepy bag [was filled] with holey stained T-shirts, odd socks and stretched exercise pants. I couldn’t bear to put them in the red bin. So they just sat there.
I recently got a RCYCL satchel. For now, items posted with the satchel are sent offshore to India for reworking: the synthetics go into carpet underlay, for example. It’s a solution, albeit an imperfect one for now. I wish we had a simple way to do yarn-to-yarn recycling of blended fibres and synthetics here in Australia. I believe we’ll get there. I admire start-ups that are trying to fix our broken systems.
Juanita Page, fashion designer and founder of Joseph and James
I tend to prioritise staple, timeless pieces that blend well with others. When I shop, I intentionally select items that fit into my existing rotation and can be styled multiple ways, ensuring each piece serves me well over time. Once a year, I review my wardrobe, asking whether each piece is still in use or holds value for future wear. This mindful approach helps me resist impulse buys, keeping my wardrobe cohesive and adaptable for different occasions.
I use a simple measure: if I haven’t worn an item in a couple of years and can’t envision it in my future outfits, it’s time to part with it. I also believe in repairing my clothes along the way, but when an item becomes unwearable, I look for ways to repurpose it.
When I do decide to let a piece go, my first step is to ask my mum and sister if they’re interested. We’re similar sizes, so it’s a way to keep it within the family. If not, I’ll take my clothes to a local market or donate them to a nearby op shop, giving each piece the chance for a second life.
Erika Geraerts, brand builder, writer and founder of Fluff
My style has been pretty consistent over the last five to 10 years and all of my most-worn pieces of clothing, I’ve had for almost a decade. I’m drawn to fabrics first and foremost. I like materials that feel soft and comfortable, like secondly silhouettes, that drape and layer well. I almost exclusively buy clothes that I can dress up and down with shoes or a jacket or jewellery, depending on the time of day. These are the items I will never toss out.
I have a few beautiful staples from brands like Acne Studios, Ann Demeulemeester and Rick Owens. I’ve loved these for over a decade for their brand story, timeless design, and production quality. On the smaller side, I’m obsessed with Deiji Studios and Kindred Black in the States for basics. I live in Silk Laundry’s pants, they go with everything and I’ll come home and jump straight into bed in them.
I tell people that my fashion choices became a lot easier when I made black the base of my wardrobe. It makes it simple to pick outfits each day, because everything works together well, and there’s less decision-making, clashing prints or styles to doubt.
If something is trending, be it a style or a brand, I usually steer away from it or regret the purchase soon after (I’m not immune to trends or social media algorithms). If I’m turning over some of the designer pieces in my wardrobe, I occasionally sell. For everyday pieces that I no longer wear, I usually offer these to my friends first or try to sell them, before giving them to Vinnies.
When you’re considering buying something new, ask yourself, ‘Do I already own this? And will it replace what I own?’ If yes, what’s the point? But if you’ll wear both and see the longevity in the piece, then it’s an investment.
Finally ready to clear out your own wardrobe? Head to eBay.
eBay is not endorsed by or affiliated with any of the brands referenced in this article.
