A few days later, having walked past and ignored the pile as best I could, I realised that the problem was two-fold. I a) have too many clothes, and b) don't have appropriate storage. So off we trotted for a family pilgrimage to Ikea. Seven one-dollar-hot dogs and four ice creams later, I now have a lovely storage drawer unit thingy inside my wardrobe, the name of which I can neither remember nor pronounce.
To solve problem A took a little more effort. To determine which clothes were to stay or go, I had to come up with a creative solution to a lack of full-length mirror (that's right, when I leave the house I have no idea what I look like). So I took photos of myself using the webcam. My photos folder now has a large series of pics of myself, standing in much the same awkward pose, wearing ill-fitting or ugly clothes. Sometimes both at once. I chucked this much stuffready for donation. Sort of putting out some op-shopping karma for later. I was proud because I threw five pairs of shoes out. Until I counted how many I have left. Who needs this much stuff? I mean, really? So many clothes, but still nothing to wear. Then it becomes clear. I have a liking for bold prints. Yet I look better in plain. My tops don't match my skirts. My pants match the tops better, but none of them fit. I have too many ugly jumpers. In my head, I look like Nina from Offspring. In reality, I...don't. Well, at least I have come across the amazing Nikki at Styling You. Maybe she can save my fashion bacon. Or perhaps I shall win the amazing competition at Maxabella loves for a super-dooper party outfit and I will just wear that every single day. I'm sure a Leona Edmiston evening dress, fab earrings from Elk and self-designed shoes from Shoes of Prey are appropriate for the school run, right?
The cool thing was, when I finally got to the very innards of my wardrobe, I found some cool stuff. A box of 'spare gifts', including three baby girl outfits. Wait I thought I have one of those! Awesome. New outfits for the small one. And a box of children's books we hadn't got around to unpacking. In it were some of my books from childhood, so the big boy and I have started reading Enid Blyton. He chose to begin with The Adventures of the Wishing Chair. Good times. Oh, and this really old book, no clue where it came from though.I wonder who Edna was?