A State of Emergency

While Skyping with my boyfriend a few nights ago, I lamented about how low my funds were this month and how exceeding hard it is getting to save money despite the fact that I am earning a tad more money than I was even just a year ago. Like a know-it-all, J pointed to my wardrobe.

Deny it as I might, J was right. The state of my wardrobe is shameful. It is the eternal symbol of wasted cash in my, and every other woman's, life.

And so earlier tonight, telling myself that all I was doing was to start to pack for my trip that is two weeks away, I waddled through the abyss that is my wardrobe. For over four hours, I found myself trying on clothes that were once too small that I bought anyway cos' they were so beautiful [that I fit now! yay!], pieces that were trendy six years ago that are once again cool to wear and clothes I've thought disappeared in some laundromat somewhere in the world.

I found a pair of vintage high-waisted navy pants I bought in Berlin that I wore once, a pinafore from Forever 21 I used to wear all the time even though it's too tight on my boobs and I often had trouble breathing, and the first little black dress I bought from Zara that I've worn so much the lining is now in shreds. Of course, what came with these pieces of clothing were the memories I had wearing them - because if there's something I remember, I always remember what I wear during significant or memorable events in my life.

The vintage pants reminded me of the German guy I dated during that time [he often carried an English-German electronic dictionary when we went out, which I found adorable], the pinafore - which is really cute - was during the time I hung out all the time with Fadzlin and had heaps of fun; and the little black dress from Zara has stories I couldn't possibly divulge. ;o)

Of course, what came with beautiful forgotten pieces of clothing were also evidence of some terrible taste I have exhibited over the years that has left me horrified by the foregone dollars. Jeans from an Aussie label with a phoenix embroidered at the lower leg, maternity-esque clothes, amongst other things.

And then there are pieces I've kept for sentimental reasons - a hot pink Roxy hoodie I bought when I was in secondary school that still looks good and holds a lot of memories, a vintage lacey black dress that I've worn only once but it was to a fab do' I'll never forget, or the army bomber jacket I bought when I was in Shanghai that I loved wearing when I was there.

Don't even get me started on how much winterwear I own. I live in Singapore, for heavens' sake!

Which leads me to the conclusion - I cannot buy any more clothes. Or belts. Or bags. Or rings. It's just an ultimatum. I don't know how I will do it, but I can't go around buying clothes when I have enough to clothe the female population of a small third world country. I need to go through wearing everything in my wardrobe before I can buy anything, and trust me when I say this - that will take a long time.

So that's it. I may be expecting two dresses, one bodysuit, two bags, one bracelet and one hairband in the mail [damn you, ASOS!], but that's the last of it. I can't buy any new clothes until I've worn all my clothes at least once through and I'll photograph all the evidence for your and my benefit. While I've failed miserably when I tried to go on a shopping fast the last time, all I have to do to motivate myself now is be reminded of my embarrassing foregone dollars, the shameful state of my wardrobe and the fact that I might actually save enough money for a trip to São Paulo before my next birthday.

Wish me luck!