My Ruthless Closet Cleanout: What I Let Go Of—and What I Learned.

I’ve written before about my attempts to clean out my closet in eco-friendly ways—using services like Trashie, ThredUp, and Project Repat to recycle, resell, or repurpose items instead of tossing them.

But let’s be honest: cleaning out anything tied to personal identity and memory is rarely just about “tidying up.” It can be emotional. Overwhelming. Even paralyzing.

I usually clean out my closet once a year, but this time was different.

This time, I was on a mission. My walk-in closet was completely full—and I don’t mean “oops I over-shopped” full. I mean can’t-walk-in, can’t-put-laundry-away, what-is-even-in-here full. Meanwhile, I was still wearing the same handful of things over and over again.

So, I got ruthless.

My rules were simple, but firm:

• If it wasn’t in good condition, it had to go.
• If it didn’t flatter me, it had to go.
• If I didn’t enjoy wearing it, it had to go.

If it didn’t meet all three criteria? Bye.

That might sound harsh, but I’ve made too many excuses in the past. I’ve kept things because they were expensive (“That $73 cardigan from J.Crew deserves better than a donation bin!”).

But what I’ve realized through years of thrifting is: it’s so much easier to part with something when you only paid $3 for it. These days, 99% of my wardrobe is thrifted, so this time, the decision-making was easier.

I also had to face some hard truths about how I dress and why.

I haven’t worked in an office since 2018. And while I kept pieces for “professional” moments, such as in-person meetings or teaching, I finally accepted that the rare event doesn’t justify storing ten outdated work blouses. Especially when I often thrift something new-to-me for those occasions anyway.

My lifestyle has changed too. In 2015, I was new to Austin, going out constantly, traveling often. But in the last several years—through getting fired, laid off (twice), and recovering financially—I’ve stayed home more. Not necessarily by choice, but out of necessity for survival. My wardrobe reflects that shift: I have a lot more loungewear and fewer “going out” outfits.

And you know what? I’m not judging myself for that. I’m proud I’ve survived it all.

However, this cleanout was also an opportunity to reflect on the life I want. I want to go out more, even just for coffee or a solo brunch.

I want to have a closet that makes getting dressed feel easy and joyful, not stressful. I want to wear clothes that make me feel confident, not like I’m settling or hiding.

That mindset helped.

Other boundaries I set for myself:

• Stains? Gone. I always say I’ll fix them… I won’t.
• Missing buttons or broken zippers? If I didn’t fix it immediately, I wasn’t going to.
• Uncomfortable shoes? Out. If I can’t walk a mile in them or stand through a concert, they’re not for me.
• Bags falling apart? Tossed. I took pictures of ones I loved so I can thrift replacements later.

Letting go of things was still emotional. But when I focused on what I was making space for—not just what I was losing—it got easier.

One trap I’ve been guilty of (and I know I’m not alone) is keeping things “just in case.” You know the thought: “But what if I need this for a future event?”

What I’ve come to realize is that this mindset is more than indecision—it’s rooted in fear. When we hesitate to let go, we’re often subconsciously telling ourselves that we won’t be able to provide for our future selves.

That if the moment does come—be it a party, a job interview, a vacation—we won’t have the time, money, or resourcefulness to find something else we like just as much.

But that’s not true. I’ve proven to myself time and time again that I can thrift a cute dress the week before an event. Or pull together an outfit that works. I don’t need to let fear of the unknown clutter my present life.

By the end, I’d cleared out about 75% of my closet: clothes, shoes, bags, the works. It didn’t happen overnight. It took months of sorting, mailing out Trashie bags and ThredUp boxes week by week.

At first, seeing the near-empty closet felt scary. But then, I looked again—and I saw only the things I love. Pieces that fit my body, my life, and my goals.

It was a huge project, but a necessary one.

And for the first time in a long time, I can see the floor of my closet—and my future—much more clearly.

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