Closet Wars.

Rachel (Can I call her by her first name? Like I know her? Like I'm not a stalker?) has YET ANOTHER great post up. This one about cleaning the closet.

Hello, my name is K and I have a confession.... Last month I cleaned my closet and it was damn near orgasmic.

Here, for the record, is how I did it and how you, too, can do it. (wow... that was quite the grammaritmare, wasn't it?)

First. Call your sister. Or, alternately, call my sister.

A note about my sister. She has style. She has sense. She recently got tired of maintaining 3 wardrobes (one for work, one for socializing and one for weekends) so she started looking for "pieces" that can do multiple duty. Not saying she's wearing her horse-riding under armour to work or anything... but she is applying that tried-n-true concept of knowing your own style and going with basics rather than trendy.

So, first, she asked me about my style.

My style. I (with the help of my mother and my friend) developed a decent summer work style. A few pairs of nice fitting capris, a couple cute skirts & some simple tops. Add in two or three trendy tops, some nice "signature" jewelry and one great pair of slides (covered toe... can't remember the brand) and I was doing ok until the weather got cold. Winter is jeans, jeans, jeans. With a few vests, a couple sweaters & some very boring long sleeved tops. Hey... I'm a work in progress.

So, then, she assessed my, um, shape.

I'm tall. I've got that going for me. And leggy. Elegant. I like to think I'm elegant. And round. I am short-waisted AND I have scoliosis and no definable waist AT ALL. I look like one of those kid's drawing of a circle with stick legs. I lost all the baby weight after the second baby with ease.... then, somehow, in the following year I gained it all back and then some. So I'm a bit, um, "stout".... or "built like a telephone pole"... whatever works.

So then we started going through the closet.

My biggest fear was ending up naked. Seriously. I was afraid she would tell me to scrap it all and start over. My instructions to her were honesty, simplification & put-together outfits... not necessarily in that order.

So we dove in. I'll spare you the hours of giggling, tea drinking & nudity. She let me keep the two new pairs of long shorts I got on clearance at Eddie Bauer.... but the rest (including several pairs of soccer shorts.... I don't play soccer.... wtf? Soccer shorts?) went in "the bag." I got rid of the oldest and illest fitting of the "casual" pants. I narrowed the sweatshirt selection. I emptied the entire cedar chest. I culled t-shirts, undies, and socks. I realized I have exactly NO bras that fit. I let go of the wool socks I adore but that are not good for my sensitive skin. I discovered three jackets that actually fit me but I was afraid to put on because I was sure they would be too tight (who-hoo gym time & eating right.... maybe it will indeed someday pay off....). All horizontal stripes (even you, expensive dress) are gone.

I kept a few select sentimental items to be repurposed. (I'm making Christmas stockings and these fabrics will make great sock tops.... sentimental, pretty & free.)

I came out of it with 4 large trash bags of donations, lots of space, color organized and easy to find clothing and a need to go bra shopping. I'll work on that. It motivated Hot Stuff to do his closet the following weekend. We have more sex now. (What? That could be a result of a more peaceful and inviting bedroom, right?) Although he still won't let me light candles in the bedroom..... and a maglite just isn't the kind of ambiance I'm lookin' for....

Wait. Focus. Post. Not. About. Sex.

So my closets are clean. My bedroom still has ugly peach carpet but my closets are clean. I still need to paint the walls but my closets are clean.

Baby steps. Baby steps.