Once I got started culling items from my wardrobe I found it quite easy to be ruthless. But what about when it comes to letting go of items I love but need to replace?
I picked up my black a-line maxi skirt (pictured above) from Supre a few years ago on impulse after seeing it displayed on a mannequin in the window. It cost $35 and when you consider the golden cost-per-wear ratio many fashion consumers use to justify their purchases I’m pretty sure the skirt might as well have been free. I’ve worn it to death, quite literally – the material is pilling uncontrollably and because I like my maxi skirts floor-grazing, the hem is completely shredded. I know it’s time I replace it; it doesn’t owe me a damn thing.
It’s taken me months but I’ve finally found a suitable replacement. It’s under $100, has virtually the exact same cut, and can be delivered to me in under a week. It sold out and I was gutted, but now it’s been restocked. So why am I still hesitating to add to cart?
Somewhere in my subconscious I keep telling myself the Supre skirt has a little life left. The subtle decay of the garment is a testament to the sabi aesthetic I identify with. But they are excuses. “It’s sabi, not sloppy,” one article on the wabi sabi lifestyle urges.
Is it this kind of nonsensical nostalgic attachment for something with no real value that’s stopping me from completely embracing the minimalist lifestyle I seek? Upon reflection, it has been easy to cull so many things simply because I didn’t love them. But sometimes we need to let the things we love go, too. So why can’t I accept the transience of this object and commit to replacing it?
Have you found yourself inexplicably attached to something it was time to let go of?