I Spent 13 Years Helping Women Build Their Wardrobes. Then I Had To Edit My Own.

A former boutique owner, a 1200 square foot apartment, and the question I didn't expect to ask: who am I dressing for now?

The moving truck arrives and I’m ready, I’ve got 40 black bundles of clothes with the hanger hooks hanging out. They’re spread throughout my spaces: my own closet, my second closet (boutique items) and the rolling rack with my most recent purchases which somehow happened since I started working at Evereve. Then there are the four extra large boxes with shoes (because I keep every single pair in their original box). But the most important box, the one labeled Kim’s makeup (a clever little cover to not tip off the movers) was actually the designer purse box. I placed each of my bags lovingly inside its dust bag, inside its original box. (I am not crazy, I promise you, I just take really good care of my things).

The truck is loaded, I go out and take a look to make sure my items have all been packed with the TLC they deserve, and suddenly my clothes hanging in their black plastic all along the back opening of the truck look different, they, dare I say, look a little ugly.

It’s an unsettling feeling when the items I had collected, cared for, and loved over the years suddenly make me feel at odds with the pedestal they’ve been on for so long. Of course, the real treasures were tucked safely away in photo boxes and memories, but these clothes held chapters too.

We arrive in Laguna. The walk in closet with ample hanging space plus ample shelves, plus drawers have been replaced with mirrored sliding doors and a few drawers. “Houston, we’ve got a problem” literally goes through my mind. They load those black bags into the closet in a flash and it certainly doesn’t look finished or even slightly good. Once the movers have labored through all the other items we own and everything is situated, I tiptoe into the bedroom with my scissors to have some alone time with my wardrobe. I cut the ties and unbundle the bundles and the clothes burst out and it looks like a bursting sale rack in a store I would never shop in. What happened to the wonderful, beautiful pieces that comprised my closet and were taken on trips to New York, Las Vegas, Japan and Copenhagen? They now looked like something I wanted to run from

.

My husband suggested I grab the rolling rack to use as a tool in organizing. I tried it. The rack quickly became stuffed while the closet stayed as stuffed and now I felt claustrophobic in a place that used to bring me joy. I decided to conquer the shoe boxes. 4 boxes with about 10 boxes of shoes inside. Yep, 40 pairs. Every single pair a “keep” or it would have been consigned or donated before we moved. Where will they all go? My brilliant idea was to just stack them all outside of the closet. It’s been a week, they’re still there. I’ve taken photos of a few and listed them on Poshmark. I’ve worn a few. The rest are standing firm, holding their place.

So here I am, a woman who spent 13 years helping other women navigate change through clothes, standing in the middle of my own biggest transition yet. I’m not sure yet what stays and what goes - in my closet or in this new chapter - but I have a feeling figuring it out might be the best part.

Thanks for reading. I’d love to hear your story.

Have you ever looked at something you once loved - a closet, a home, a collection, even a version of yourself - and realized it not longer fit the life you were living?

Tell me in the comments. I have a feeling I’m not the only one unpacking a new chapter…