{"id":13614,"date":"2015-07-08T05:00:00","date_gmt":"2015-07-08T12:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/sanaeishida.com\/?p=13614"},"modified":"2015-07-08T09:16:42","modified_gmt":"2015-07-08T16:16:42","slug":"an-abundance-of-clothes","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sanaeishida.com\/?p=13614","title":{"rendered":"Not Buying Clothes: Year Three"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"antique-dresser1\"<\/a><\/p>\n

So, it’s that time of year again when I fondly recall that the last time I willingly purchased a piece of apparel for me and K was July of 2012. I say “willingly” because I’m still miffed about having to shell out cash for\u00a0a couple of t-shirts and a pair of knit capris last year on an unplanned trip<\/a>. I’m going to disregard that particular incident and act as though my three-year track record of clothes shopping abstention is unblemished.<\/p>\n

What makes this truly remarkable is that I used to love buying clothes with the kind of insatiable fervor\u00a0of an addict. Loved loved loved\u00a0loved<\/em>\u00a0clothes shopping. Well… it was more of a love\/hate relationship. I loved the possibilities that a shopping trip held, that slightly chemical and perfumed scent of brand new garments on a rack, the thrill of a bargain. But the ugly side was the woes that filled the fitting rooms, the vast difference between what I imagined the clothes would look like on me and the reality of how they actually fit. Secretly, I obsessed about the tiny printed numbers on the tags — I experienced a boost of confidence if the tags showed a smaller size, and a sharp dip in mood if the numbers seemed too high. I have been known to buy a piece of clothing just because it sported the words, “size 6”, even if\u00a0the seams strained to burst. “It fits!!” I would tell myself. I also did not<\/em> enjoy tallying up the financial damages these sprees incurred.<\/p>\n

But all of that is behind me. Sort of. I worry that I’ve just transferred my excessive predilections to sewing. I’ve been watching with growing concern as K’s DIY wardrobe continues to balloon\u00a0and my own collection of handmade clothes overflows out of my rather large IKEA Hemnes dresser that was already crammed\u00a0to the hilt with ready-to-wear.<\/p>\n

\"antique-dresser2\"<\/a><\/p>\n

A few months ago, I eagerly embraced the KonMari method from The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up<\/a>\"\" and purged like a madwoman. Then slowly, inevitably, stuff started to pile up again. I made more clothes. I accumulated fabrics and props for the book photo shoots. K brought home a mountain of papers from school. Christmas and birthdays happened. Also, I hadn’t eliminated as much of my own clothes as I’d thought and I had difficulty rolling the clothes in the way Marie Kondo described in her book, causing some untidy\u00a0storage issues.<\/p>\n

During one of the\u00a0photo shoots at my house, we shifted the IKEA dresser out of the way and moved the hallway dresser into my bedroom for a shot, and I\u00a0gushed over\u00a0the way the antique elevated the feel of the room. That’s my lovely flea market 1920s dresser\u00a0at the very top. But it’s small and I’ve been using it\u00a0to hold extra linens by the bathroom, and it would only accommodate about 1\/4 of my clothes, if that. In a surge\u00a0of inspired action, we played some musical dressers, and K inherited the IKEA behemoth to replace the tiny dresser that had been inadequate for a few years, and I vowed to slash my wardrobe.<\/p>\n

\"antique-dresser3\"<\/a><\/p>\n

I ruthlessly applied the “Does this spark joy?” test and filled four trash bags. I was fairly blas\u00e9 about my store-bought\u00a0garments as I tossed them in the bags, but I could feel the resistance bubble up when I tried to let go of my handmade clothes…the hours I spent on them! The beautiful fabrics! The truth is, many of the clothes I made don’t fit very well, and I rarely reach for them. And quite a few that I do wear regularly look shabby and tired. I did hold onto a number items made out of prized Miss Matatabi fabric to repurpose, but stored them away out of sight. You can see my work-in-progress in the images above. I still have a little more work to do to trim down my\u00a0clothing stash, and\u00a0I might go all out and get super minimalistic. Am I ready? I don’t know…<\/p>\n

I do know that I’ve been eyeing people’s outfits a lot lately, thinking “Ooh, I want to make a summer dress like that one,” or “That shirt with the placket and subtle horse print is so fun…” I’ve been sketching a plethora of sewing ideas and jonesing to make more clothes for myself. How to balance these diametrically opposed desires to purge and make? It’s my perennial quagmire,\u00a0but for now, I’m patting myself on the back\u00a0for not buying any clothes for three years. No matter what else,\u00a0I’m happy to chalk that up as a major accomplishment.<\/p>\n

P.S. I’ve been mulling over the whole concept of shopping since reading this quirky and charming little book<\/a>\"\". Among interesting observations on consumer behavior, the author spent a year painting all the things she didn’t (but wanted) to buy, including items from her Pinterest board. I think I might start painting things from my Pinterest board, but that might take me a few million years…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

So, it’s that time of year again when I fondly recall that the last time I willingly purchased a piece of apparel for me and K was July of 2012. I say “willingly” because I’m still miffed about having to shell out cash for\u00a0a couple of t-shirts and a pair of knit capris last year on an unplanned trip. I’m going to disregard that particular incident and act as though my three-year track record of clothes shopping abstention is unblemished. What makes this truly remarkable is that I used to love buying clothes with the kind of insatiable fervor\u00a0of an addict. Loved loved loved\u00a0loved\u00a0clothes shopping. Well… it was more of a love\/hate relationship. I loved the possibilities that a shopping trip held, that slightly chemical and perfumed scent of brand new garments on a rack, the thrill of a bargain. But the ugly side was the woes that filled the fitting rooms, the vast difference between what I imagined the clothes would look like on me and the reality of how they actually fit. Secretly, I obsessed about the tiny printed numbers on the tags — I experienced a boost of confidence if the tags showed a smaller size, and a sharp dip in mood if the numbers seemed too high. I have been known to buy a piece of clothing just because it sported the words, “size 6”, even if\u00a0the seams strained to burst. “It fits!!” I would tell myself. I also did not enjoy tallying up the financial damages these sprees incurred. But all of that is behind me. Sort of. I worry that I’ve just transferred my excessive predilections to sewing. I’ve been watching with growing concern as K’s DIY wardrobe continues to balloon\u00a0and my own collection of handmade clothes overflows out of my rather large IKEA Hemnes dresser that was already crammed\u00a0to the hilt with ready-to-wear. A few months ago, I eagerly embraced the KonMari method from The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up and purged like a madwoman. Then slowly, inevitably, stuff started to pile up again. I made more clothes. I accumulated fabrics and props for the book photo shoots. K brought home a mountain of papers from school. Christmas and birthdays happened. Also, I hadn’t eliminated as much of my own clothes as I’d thought and I had difficulty rolling the clothes in the way Marie Kondo described in her book, causing some untidy\u00a0storage issues. During one of the\u00a0photo shoots at my house, we shifted the IKEA dresser out of the way and moved the hallway dresser into my bedroom for a shot, and I\u00a0gushed over\u00a0the way the antique elevated the feel of the room. That’s my lovely flea market 1920s dresser\u00a0at the very top. But it’s small and I’ve been using it\u00a0to hold extra linens by the bathroom, and it would only accommodate about 1\/4 of my clothes, if that. In a surge\u00a0of inspired action, we played some musical dressers, and K inherited the IKEA behemoth to replace the tiny dresser that had been inadequate for a few years, and I vowed to slash my wardrobe. I ruthlessly applied the “Does this spark joy?” test and filled four trash bags. I was fairly blas\u00e9 about my store-bought\u00a0garments as I tossed them in the bags, but I could feel the resistance bubble up when I tried to let go of my handmade clothes…the hours I spent on them! The beautiful fabrics! The truth is, many of the clothes I made don’t fit very well, and I rarely reach for them. And quite a few that I do wear regularly look shabby and tired. I did hold onto a number items made out of prized Miss Matatabi fabric to repurpose, but stored them away out of sight. You can see my work-in-progress in the images above. I still have a little more work to do to trim down my\u00a0clothing stash, and\u00a0I might go all out and get super minimalistic. Am I ready? I don’t know… I do know that I’ve been eyeing people’s outfits a lot lately, thinking “Ooh, I want to make a summer dress like that one,” or “That shirt with the placket and subtle horse print is so fun…” I’ve been sketching a plethora of sewing ideas and jonesing to make more clothes for myself. How to balance these diametrically opposed desires to purge and make? It’s my perennial quagmire,\u00a0but for now, I’m patting myself on the back\u00a0for not buying any clothes for three years. No matter what else,\u00a0I’m happy to chalk that up as a major accomplishment. P.S. I’ve been mulling over the whole concept of shopping since reading this quirky and charming little book. Among interesting observations on consumer behavior, the author spent a year painting all the things she didn’t (but wanted) to buy, including items from her Pinterest board. I think I might start painting things from my Pinterest board, but that might take me a few million years…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[9],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-13614","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-life","7":"entry","8":"has-post-thumbnail"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sanaeishida.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13614","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sanaeishida.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sanaeishida.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sanaeishida.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sanaeishida.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=13614"}],"version-history":[{"count":33,"href":"https:\/\/sanaeishida.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13614\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":13650,"href":"https:\/\/sanaeishida.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13614\/revisions\/13650"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sanaeishida.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=13614"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sanaeishida.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=13614"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sanaeishida.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=13614"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}