The dilemma goes something along the lines of:

"I have a wardrobe full of clothes but nothing to wear"

I'm not sure who said this or where I originally read it, but I know the feeling well. If you know me in real life you wouldn't consider me to be a clothes horse. But if you had a look through my wardrobe and chest of drawers you would probably think I was.

Until last August my bedroom was bursting at the seams. I still owned activewear from when I was a dancer during my time at university. Or from when I still tried to convince myself I was into running, which was a dark time. I still owned dresses that I haven't been able to fit into since I started a desk job. I owned shirts that I know longer like, or maybe never really did. I owned waist length t-shirts, even though I don't suit high necks or anything that draws attention to my mid-section. All the money I spent buying a new dress every time I went on a night out (yes, I was once one of those girls) was still hanging in my closet. Heels I was never able to walk in. Clothes I hadn't worn in years.

I owned more clothes than I owned coathangers, and I own plenty of coathangers (I bought beige for my work clothes and purple for everything else so I could easily separate my looks). I have a massive chest with four big drawers, and four small ones, brimming with underwear, accessories, sportswear, more general clothing, and my weirdly large pyjama collection. Even better, I never put my laundry away because I needed my drying rack as extra storage space.

This, my friends, is when you know you need to have a clear out.



Last August I was approaching the year mark of an anniversary where I ruffled some feathers and decided to stop caring what people thought of me (also known as ridding my life of toxic people and coming out of the closet). With this anniversary looming, I had the sudden urge to rid myself of physical belongings that represented the version of myself that I thought I was supposed to be, or the person other people wanted me to be.

I started by admitting that a few things needed to go to landfill. Which always sucks. But there's not exactly a second-hand market for broken GHDs, shoes with holes in them, and water bottles with corporate logos. Then I packed up the athletic and outdoorsy stuff that was mostly on lend from my genuinely outdoorsy parents and gave it back to my mum the next time she visited. The only sport I enjoy is swimming and it was time to own that.

Then in November I attended my first ever clothes swap, hosted by ethical fashion blogger Ruth Macgilp. I blogged about the day here, so there's no need to go into detail. I only took one small suitcase full of clothes that I really wanted rid of. But when I returned home with new clothes that I was genuinely excited to start wearing, I could now see even more clutter in my bedroom (and I still had more clothes than I did coathangers).

So last week when I attended Ruth's second clothes swap, I was ruthless. I was attending the International Improv Festival later that day and didn't want to lug a suitcase around so I filled my rucksack and two large shopping bags with clothes that served no purpose in my life. And it felt cathartic, especially since I was finally accepting my body would never be slim enough for some of those clothes again.



This time the clothes swap was taking place at the ALICAS offices. ALICAS is a charity that builds capsule wardrobes for women in need, whether that is due to homelessness or fleeing domestic abuse. They work on a referral system from charities who agree that these women would benefit from a new wardrobe. They only collect clothes that still have the label on them so the women in need don't feel as though they are receiving hand me downs. Luckily I had a dress in my wardrobe that still had tags on it and it's a great way to get rid of clothes you were meant to return, but never got round to.

The work ALICAS do might seem frivolous at first glance, but many victims of homelessness and domestic abuse (especially emotional abuse) lose their sense of self, and clothes play a large part in shaping someone's self-identity. On the day of the clothes swap, we filled boxes for two of the charity's current referrals - which included information on the women's age, clothing sizes, and style preferences. These women were going to receive clothing that would fit their personalities and lifestyles, and that's fantastic.

On the day of the clothes swap, the conversation naturally gravitated towards Marie Kondo and how much she has inspired people to clean out their lives. I've not read her book or watched her Netflix documentary, but from what I've heard second-hand I agree with the principles. I have been in the mindset for years that the organisation or cleanliness of someone's house reflects their mental health and emotional wellbeing. I used to be terrible at not keeping on top of my housework, but that was because I was busy with too many random things that I couldn't make time for basic self-care. My room reflected how disorganised my life was.

And my hoarding tendencies (in case you missed it: I mentioned that I held on to a pair of broken GHDs) were reflective of my general attitude to filling my life with things that didn't bring happiness or had long outgrown. Whether it was having frenemies, people I liked but didn't get the !!!! feeling for, staying in romantic/sexual relationships for longer than I should, having hobbies that I wasn't super-passionate about, or even staying in the closet until my mid-twenties - I was never able to throw away even non-physical things.

But there has been understandable criticism that Marie Kondo is encouraging people to send half their belongings to landfill. Which is true. But the real problem is consumerism and people buying things they don't need. This also includes gifts you feel you need to buy someone, and they end up at the back of the closet for ten years. Until people learn to live with less in the beginning, we're going to have people throwing away stuff. The trick isn't to hoard (like I did) it's to think more sensibly about your purchases in the first place.



When I got home that evening, it was without my two large shopping bags and my rucksack was now full of new clothes that reflect my current outwards appearance:

• A polka dot blazer from M&S
• A tartan hooded dress from Collection Vintage London
• A stripy long-sleeved jumper from Oasis 
• A long t-shirt with eyes on it from Neon Ninja®
• Burgandy and white skater dress from People Tree

And the best part of my second clothes swap?

I can now fit all my clothes in my wardrobe.

Move over Marie Kondo.

If you've been following me and my wee blog for a few years, you might have noticed that outfit posts used to be a thing. And then they weren't. In fact, my last outfit post was back in 2015.

That's because after I finished university in 2012 I fell into a massive style rut. That lasted for years.

I started working in an office full-time so my wardrobe now required blazers and sensible shoes. My new desk job caused me to put on weight and, while the weight gain itself was something I accepted, I could no longer fit into half my clothes and even the clothes I could fit into now didn't sit the same way. Adult life was busy, and I began to desire clothes that were practical and easy to style - but still cute (is that too much to ask?). It didn't help that blogging was maturing as an industry and fashion blogs (which had once been my primary source of fashion inspiration) had changed from girls taking snaps in their bedrooms of casual outfits, to now being on par with glitzy fashion magazines full of outfits that were (maybe I'm wrong) not honest representations of what these girls wore in day-to-day life.



I've never considered myself a natural fashionista. Which is why the dilemma over my wardrobe carried on for years. I didn't grow up in a house where looking great everyday was considered a must. My dad only invested in a fitted suit when my parents booked their first cruise five years ago, and my mum only has five lipsticks to her name.

I did develop a 'style' when I was 15 (hello MySpace phase) and then later in my final two years of university, but both had been heavily influenced by what other girls wore on the internet and in magazines. None of it had been some natural flair for knowing what shoes went with what bag or what colours complimented each other.

It was only in the past two years that I began to define a look that suited my new adult life. Skinny jeans. Skirts with tights (fishnets on a night out). Playsuits. Skater dresses. Floaty tops and blouses. Admitting once and for all that fitted t-shirts don't suit me. Jumper dresses. Chockers and understated jewellery. White Converse in summer. Black ankle boots in winter. Muted tones, and much more black than before. I'd say it falls under the 'indie Cindy' umbrella and if I had to choose a celebrity to emulate it would be Alexa Chung.

But then another challenge came my way: the ethical lifestyle journey that I started in 2012 had now expanded to include clothes, and I wanted to get the fuck away from fast fashion. It's hard enough shopping for clothes when you refuse to step foot in a Primark, but when you actively hate your entire wardrobe and need a re-vamp? Eek.



My solution came very recently in the form of clothes swap hosted by Edinburgh ethical fashion blogger Ruth MacGilp. Not only did I have clothes I couldn't fit into anymore but the past twelve months had been a turning point point for me (hello coming out) and I had the strong urge to once and for all rid my physical space of things that no longer served me. It was the perfect way to clear out my wardrobe and pick up some new threads that did tick my boxes (all without damaging the environment or funding slave labour).

On the day it was myself and Ruth, plus Alice of Twenty-Something City and Lucie of Call Me Dumpling. Between us we managed to fill three rails of clothing with varying styles. The clothes ranged from bold and beautiful, right through to structured and muted. Aside from the clothes, there were also jackets, bags, and shoes. Oh, and photographer Ellie Morag was there to take photos of the looks we had styled from each other's unwanted clothing.

I  remained restrained on the day and refused to replace my unwanted clothes with other pieces that would end up sitting in my wardrobe untouched for three years. No joke: these girls are style mavens and the temptation to grab everything that fitted was highly tempting. But in the end I opted for 7 new items, some of which I've already worn:

• Black high-heeled ankle boots
• Tartan scarf
• Pippa Lynn t-shirt dress
• A dark blue t-shirt dress
• Red belt
• Black French Connection dress
• JS Millennium dark blue shirt with a red ballet dancer pattern

The silver boots you see me wearing? I know they're fabulous but I also know they wouldn't get worn ever again. Same to the red pumps. I left them.



When I arrived home and hung up my new threads, I found even more clothes and accessories I wanted to get rid of (the clothes that we didn't swap were donated to a charity shop). There's something cathartic about bringing home clothes that you will wear that gives you the confidence to become even stricter about donating the clothes that you know you never will wear again.

So I'm game again. If there's anyone in the Central Belt of Scotland looking to get rid of new clothes and pick up some new clothes for free - give me a holla.

Love Morag x