You know all the articles telling you to declutter your closet every six or twelve months? The ones that say if a garment hasn’t seen daylight lately, you should get rid of it? I’ve been reading those—and no, I’m not buying it.
Because for some clothes, not wearing them right now doesn’t mean never wearing them again.
Clothes, Memories & Joy
Yes, I pull stuff out to donate, sell, or give away when I’m crystal sure I won’t ever wear them again. But a lot of what’s sitting in my closet doesn’t just represent “fits” and “styles.” They’re pieces I love—really love. Statements I made about who I was, dresses that felt fabulous, vintage finds that made me gasp when I discovered them. These things spark joy. They have personality. They’re part of my story.
To me, throwing them out simply because I can’t wear them right this second feels like erasing part of myself. Like telling myself those days of joy and confidence & beauty are over. I’d rather keep them around, tucked away, than send them off because a number on a label or an arbitrary rule told me to.
Size, Health, and Life Happen
Let’s talk reality. Over the past few years, health problems have put me on the back foot—between pain, limited mobility, and the mental load that comes with it. Those things have shaped me physically. And yes, I’ve gained weight. But here’s what I refuse to accept: that because I can’t squeeze into something now, I should discard it.
So many “declutter your life” pieces act like your best self must match your wardrobe size. But health isn’t linear. Bodies fluctuate. We heal. We rest. We recover. I don’t need a closet that reflects current limits; I want one that reminds me there’s more to come. One that holds the promise that someday I’ll maybe wear that vintage jumpsuit again, or that gorgeous dress I bought in a burst of joy. Even if it takes time.
Decluttering, Yes—but Selectively
I’m not saying clean house is bad. On the contrary—I love an organized space. I find real peace in tidy drawers, clothes hung nicely, items that still bring life and function front and center. I regularly toss things that are worn out, ugly, uninspiring, or just never did anything for me.
But there’s a distinction: things I never liked vs. things I still adore but can’t wear right now. The former goes. The latter stays in a safe place: folded, protected, possibly out of daily view—but still present. Because part of self-care is honoring what has meant something to you, even when you’re in a different phase.
Letting go doesn’t always mean better. Sometimes holding on is a statement: of your self-worth, of your future strength, of your style that transcends circumstances. My too-small clothes aren’t motivators to lose weight—they’re reminders of what I’ve loved and what I want to love again.
What Matters More: Fit vs. Feel
I’m more interested in keeping what brings joy than in a ticking calendar that judges me every six months. Some things haven’t been worn in a year—or even longer—but the emotional value, the fit in personality, those matter more than fashion’s fickle timing.
Yes, clothes that don’t fit can sting. Sure, they can trigger frustration. But I’d rather feel that than feel regret for letting something beautiful go too soon. There’s a difference between what’s worn and what’s treasured. And I believe we deserve treasures.
Taking Care of What You Hold On To
- Store them well. If you’re keeping items you can’t wear now, make sure they’re preserved: not exposed to moisture, mold, pests. Fold carefully, use garment bags, and keep them somewhere safe.
- Let them motivate health, not shame. Use them as gentle reminders—not guilt trips. Maybe someday you’ll feel good enough to wear them; meanwhile, let them be part of your style story.
- Keep “get rid” criteria flexible. Instead of a rigid “six-month no-wear” rule, think: Is this piece high quality? Is it special? Can I potentially wear it again? If the answers lean toward yes, it stays.
Final Thought
Your wardrobe doesn’t have to be a reflection of your “right now.” It can also be a map of your “could be” — what you’ve loved, what you hope to wear again, what has shaped your visual identity. Holding onto certain clothes isn’t stubbornness or denial; it’s honoring your history, preserving joy, and believing in your resilience.
So if you’re like me, with pieces tucked away that don’t fit but still mean something—don’t purge out of pressure. Curate what deserves to stay, but let that stay be kind to you. Your closet, your rules.
