I spent a good chunk of Labor Day knee-deep in a closet edit of epic proportions. I sorted through every rack, rod and cubby, pulling the items I couldn’t see myself wearing in 3 years and tossing them in a pile on the bed. After a couple of hours, a mountain of ill-fitting trendy printed denim, flimsy clearance bin tops, and elastic-waist polyester dresses covered the bedspread.
I surveyed the teetering stack of clothing — the spoils of years of bargain shopping and too much style “inspiration” — and thought to myself, You’re doing it wrong. These things don’t look like they belong in the same woman’s closet.
I’d created a monster, fed by blog trends and Pinterest and deep discounts; and I’d lost my point of view along the way.
Then I made a rash decision: I couldn’t move forward with creating a well-edited wardrobe with all this stuff taking…
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