Introducing Chaotic Culling

I began to edit my wardrobe based on feelings and instinct. It has been a surprisingly rewarding exercise.

A few weeks ago when I was getting my hair cut, my hairdresser asked me if I had a carefully organized wardrobe. We’ve known each other for over 15 years and we often chat about trends and clothes, so this question wasn’t unexpected. She seemed a little shocked when I said that I was the least organized person and that my wardrobe was a total disaster. “But you always seem so… collected!”, she said. Looks can be deceiving, and the cobbler’s kids go barefoot. I own and run a carefully curated vintage shop but my own clothing situation is chaotic at best. Insert the shrugging emoji here.

For the last couple of months I’ve been aware of needing a wardrobe edit. I wrote back in September last year that I wanted to be able to see (and wear) just the good stuff in my closet, and to not get bogged down by fillers. I found myself in a pretty good place at the end of 2023, knowing that I wanted to take a good look at everything and to make some decisions, but I also kept pushing off the wardrobe edit because I wanted to avoid culling the way I’m used to doing it. I felt like I needed a new process, because my old one used to serve two purposes: 1) to make space so that I can buy more things, and 2) to give me a false sense of being in control of my closet and my shopping.

My old culling method was the following:

1. Take everything (or a seasonal section) out of the closet

2. Go through the clothes, consider how they fit and how much I wear them, and group them in three piles: keep, consider, toss

3. Put the “keep” items back in the closet, go through the “consider” pile a second time, and get rid of the “toss” category (sell, donate or recycle)

I’ve never been great at doing this in a more detailed way. I know that some people enjoy editing by category, trying on every single piece, building outfits while culling, or looking at their outfit data to find an exact number of wears before making a decision. Some people toss everything they haven’t worn in a year. I debated whether I needed to pick myself up and make my culling process more specific or almost more scientific, but I just didn’t feel like it was the right thing to do. It occurred to me that closet culling tends to be a rather formulated, harsh practice. The goal is to organize, to reel in the chaos, and you can’t konmari your way out of the fact that it’s not a particularly forgiving or kind exercise. 

We tend to be very hard on ourselves when it comes to editing our closets. We often think that we have to be ruthless or cut-throat, like our clothes and our weakness for them are the enemy. I’ve been there. I’ve blamed myself for having bought things that I don’t need. I’ve felt guilty because I don’t have time to wear everything I have. I’ve felt silly when the clothes that I thought would make me feel a certain way didn’t deliver, and I’ve felt inadequate when the clothes that I had bought didn’t fit me anymore. These are complicated feelings, and a lot of the time we think that if we just cleanse our closets, some kind of clarity will ensue and these feelings will go away. But it doesn’t work that way.

Ruthless and disciplined wardrobe edits might give us a temporary sense of being in control, but they don’t allow us to deal with our feelings, especially the ones that we might label as “unpleasant”, “negative” or “difficult”. We tend to forget that all feelings are valuable, and one is not better than another. By rationalizing and compartmentalizing our wardrobe culling we might be sidelining the very feelings that trigger our consumption. Often a wardrobe edit leads to a spending spree, and before we know if, we’re back to culling, and telling ourselves that “this time it will be different”.

I thought about all of this on a day off, and decided to do things differently. 

Enter: chaotic culling. 

1. Stand in front of the closet and grab things instinctively or at random

2. Let yourself have feelings about the things that you reach for

3. Try stuff on if you’re feeling unsure, to feel more feelings

4. Then make decisions based on your instincts  

The first things I grabbed out of the closet were a neon yellow Calvin Klein hoodie I bought a few years ago, and a pair of black leather trousers I never wear. I didn’t have to try on the hoodie: I had bought it because I had mistakenly thought that it would make me feel cool, but I just don’t like it (cull, obviously). I tried on the leather trousers that fit well, but I didn’t feel like myself (cull). I reveled in my favorite trousers for some time, just looking at them and appreciating them. I then culled a bunch of trousers that I had bought a few years back, thinking that I needed “range” in the shape of my trousers. 

I spent a moment on my jackets and reaffirmed my love for them, and then moved on to a random pair of sneakers here, a long-sleeve t-shirt there. I came across three handmade mohair sweaters that look a little juvenile to me right now, but I love them, I will be in the mood to wear them again, and I would be sad if I no longer owned them. You know when sometimes with vintage clothes you feel like you should either be really young or really old to be able to pull them off? It can be a fine line, but I feel that in order for our wardrobes to really resonate with us, we need those temporal layers in there. The life that has been lived, the people who we were and who we have become… these are the things that make our style personal.   

I called it a day when I began to have feelings of confusion, I started to question what love was, and momentarily thought that I wanted to get rid of most of my clothes.  

On the days that have followed since I began chaotic culling, I’ve given myself permission to keep going if I’ve felt like it. I’ve steered away from thinking that this closet culling exercise is something that I must accomplish and complete, that there are particular numbers that I must reach, or that the end result is going to be life-changing. I’m inching closer to the idea that just like I will never be ready or complete as a human being, my wardrobe will not magically graduate to perfection. The best thing I can do is to nurture my instincts, because they very rarely mislead me.

I’ve had three major realizations in the process:

1. I will not form emotional attachments to clothes that I have bought as an attempt to bring whatever kind of analytically derived “x factor” into my personal style (it’s worth noting that for me almost all of these items fall under the cool, athletic or relaxed category). I recognize that the last few years have been challenging for me in many ways: I’ve had some health issues, my body has changed, and I’ve made attempts to revamp my style by following well-intended style advice that just hasn’t worked for me personally. That’s understandable and human. Now that some time has passed, I can see clearly where I’ve been, and I’m emerging from the experience with more confidence. 

2. What Irene Kim calls “placeholders” will eventually all get culled. (It’s in the name, duh!) Things that just kind of scratch whatever itch of the moment will get the chop sooner or later. If (and when) I want to consume fashion and clothes slower and for keeps, there’s no point in buying placeholders at all.

3. I own a lot of clothes that I hardly ever wear but I don’t want to let go of either. There’s an emotional pull that these clothes have over me, and I’m trying to gently allow these emotions to come onto the surface. I used to think that I just needed to learn to style these clothes in order to somehow master them (or to get rid of them because I don’t wear them), but now I think that I should just let them speak to me instead. These clothes are not mistakes. I just haven’t followed up on the burst of feeling I initially had for them when I bought them. So I ask: “Hey, you strangely proportioned, beaded beautiful Dries jacket, what’s up? What kind of story would you like to tell me?”

What I’ve loved about this particular wardrobe edit is that it has not felt like a chore. It has actually been enjoyable, like a stimulating conversation. It has made me feel good about myself and my clothes. Going through all the intricate emotions has allowed me to appreciate the multi-faceted nature of my wardrobe, and to even experience compassion for the clothes that have not made the cut.

Chaotic culling is not exactly rational and it might lead to situations that you weren’t prepared for. (I didn’t see it coming, but during this process I’ve had to spend a lot of time dealing with emotions that arise from me being relatively poor.) It can feel emotionally draining, especially if, like most adults, you’re used to repressing your feelings in your everyday life. It’s human nature to want to organize, to make sense of, to categorize and to discipline, and there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m just much happier when I allow the complexity of life to wash over me, as impossible as it is to tame and to understand. 

The best thing about chaotic culling is that it is not, as the name would suggest, chaotic at all. It’s a gentle, friendly exercise. It keeps you tuned in to who you are and how nuanced your emotional landscape is. It keeps you honest. As you keep going where your mind takes you, patterns begin to emerge. In chaos, there is order. 

---

Suomeksi:

Vaatekaapin systemaattinen karsiminen on liiallisesta kuluttamisesta kertova kurinpidollinen toimenpide, johon liittyvät monimutkaiset tunteet (syyllisyys, ahdistus ja epäonnistuminen) jäävät käsittelemättä. Järjestelmällinen vaatteiden karsiminen ilman tunnetason työtä voi johtaa kierteeseen: kun vaatekaapissa on enemmän tilaa, ostamme lisää vaatteita, kunnes joudumme tekemään uuden karsinnan.

Aloin karsia omaa vaatekaappiani muutama viikko sitten täysin fiilispohjalta, sen kummemmin omaa käytöstäni analysoimatta ja vain omiin tunteisiini ja vaistoihini luottaen. “Kaoottinen karsinta” on ollut yllättävän miellyttävä prosessi. Olen luopunut vaatteista, jotka olen ostanut vääristä syistä ja ihastunut uudestaan vaatteisiin, joita en käytä juuri koskaan. Opettelen kuuntelemaan, millaisia tarinoita vaatteeni minulle kertovat, koska tunnetasolla tärkeiksi koetuilla vaatteilla on omassa vaatekaapissani tärkein rooli. En usko vaatekaappini tulevan välttämättä koskaan valmiiksi. Pieni kaaos on hyväksi, eikä täydellisyyttä kannata tavoitella.