A few weeks ago, I started what I’m now calling my Closet Reset.
At first, it felt productive. Pull everything out. Make piles. Get organized.
But as I started sorting through clothes, shoes, bags, and jewelry, I noticed something unsettling:
I own a lot of beautiful things and some crazy things too.
Some still had tags on them.
Some had only been worn once.
Some were given as gifts that I will never wear but feel bad getting rid of.
Some were pieces I vividly remembered buying because I just knew they were going to be amazing and perfect for an event… and then at the last minute, I changed my mind and wore something different.
Day after day, I pretty much wear the same small group of clothes on repeat.
So standing there in the middle of the mess, I started asking myself: Why?
Why do I have all of these things that I never use? How can my closet be this full, yet I still feel like I have nothing to wear? Those questions are what started this entire closet reset for me.
Why My Closet Is Full But I Still Have Nothing to Wear
There was nothing technically wrong with them. Most were cute. Some were expensive. Some were inexpensive. Some were trendy. Some were classic. But I still didn’t wear them.
Then another thought hit me: There are only seven days in a week. How much stuff can one person realistically use?
And honestly, I work from home. I spend a lot of time in comfortable clothes. I don’t need an incredible new look every day.
But I do love clothes, and I like to look nice.
I love putting on an outfit and thinking: “Oh yes. This feels like me.” Sometimes that is simple and sometimes it’s elaborate.
I like feeling polished. I like feeling attractive. I like it when things fit well and feel good on your body. I love hats. I like it when someone compliments my outfit. I even like cozy clothes to look intentional and put together.
So why was my closet overflowing while I somehow still felt like I had nothing to wear?
Why did I keep reaching for the same 20 things over and over again?
Somewhere Along the Way, I Lost My Sense of Style
As I kept sorting piles, another question started forming: How do I even decide what is “me” anymore?
Somewhere along the way, my sense of style had become tangled up in impulse purchases, trend cycles, and clothes bought for imaginary versions of my life.
I started looking at pieces and asking myself: Why did I buy this in the first place?
And then came the real moment of clarity.
The Fantasy of the Perfect Outfit
I took a break from cleaning, opened Instagram, and immediately started scrolling fashion reels.
That’s when it really sank in.
I have been over influenced.
Now don’t get me wrong—I genuinely enjoy fashion content. I get inspiration from it all the time. I love seeing creative outfits and beautiful styling ideas.
But somewhere between inspiration and reality, things got blurry.
I would see an influencer wearing a pair of pants with a perfect jacket, layered jewelry, and effortlessly cool shoes and think: “Oh, I could wear that too.”
In my mind, I wasn’t just buying the pants. I was buying the fantasy.
The fantasy that those pants were going to look just as amazing on me as they did on the influencer wearing them. And honestly, that’s exactly what good influencers do—they inspire you to picture yourself in the outfit, living the lifestyle, feeling that confident.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m a grown woman and fully responsible for my own choices, but that algorithm absolutely knows how to pull on your fashion and purchasing-power heartstrings.
The fantasy that this one purchase would somehow unlock effortless style. One thing I’m already realizing during this closet reset is how often I shop for fantasy versions of myself instead of real life.
The reality?
I’m around 5’4”, bigger on top, smaller on the bottom, and I’ve spent 55 years learning what actually works on my body and what absolutely does not. And friend, there’s a lot that doesn’t work!
But somehow one good reel could make me temporarily forget all of that wisdom.
So I’d order the pants. Wait excitedly for them to arrive. Try them on. And immediately realize: These do not work on my body at all.
Or maybe they technically fit, but weren’t flattering, and none of my tops worked with them. None of my shoes looked right. The proportions felt off. The outfit I imagined in my head simply didn’t exist in real life.
Then came the familiar trip to the UPS store, where they now recognize me on sight because apparently I run a part-time return shipping operation.
Maybe I’d keep one item that was featured on that amazing carousel. But even then, I often hadn’t thought through how I would actually wear it with the clothes I already owned.
So naturally, I’d start shopping for another top to match the one pair of pants that actually worked- or semi-worked. Then maybe shoes to match the top. Then maybe another pair of pants because the original pants weren’t quite right after all.
And around and around it went.
Buying Clothes Started Feeling Better Than Wearing Them
The truth is, buying things feels good.
The anticipation feels good.
The package arriving feels good.
The possibility feels good.
But actually building a functional wardrobe? Somewhere along the way, that part got lost. This closet reset is forcing me to slo down and really look at what I already own.
Instead of developing my own style, I kept layering new purchases on top of old confusion, and managing to keep it all in a stuffed closet (or two) where nothing looked appealing, or even accessible.
My closet became overcrowded, disconnected, and strangely stressful.
And yet hidden inside all of that clutter, I realized something important: There are good pieces in there.
Beautiful ones. Simple ones. Practical ones. Pieces that really are me.
Somewhere in that closet, underneath all the noise and impulse buying and fantasy shopping… I’m in there too.
The question is: Where?
My Closet Reset Begins
So instead of continuing to buy more, I decided to try something different.
From now until the end of the year, I’m going to do my best not to buy any new clothes.
Not because I think shopping is bad. Not because I want a perfectly minimal closet. And definitely not because I think women should stop enjoying fashion.
I simply want to fully use what I already have, define my style more clearly, keep what works for me, and pass along what doesn’t to someone it might serve better. I want this process to help me understand why I’ve made the shopping decisions I have, make wiser ones in the future, and create a wardrobe that feels cohesive, confident, and truly reflective of me. And, I’m hoping this closet reset helps me become more intentional with what I buy moving forward.
I want to walk into my closet and feel inspired and at peace—not overwhelmed, lost, or confused. I want a wardrobe that feels stylish, functional, and uniquely mine for every part of my life: cozy work-from-home days, dinners out, vacations, weddings, coffee with friends… all of it.
I know this is going to be challenging.
I’m going to have to give up the dopamine hit of impulsive shopping and sit with the discomfort of figuring out why I keep buying things that don’t truly work for me. I’m going to have to figure out what to do with the time I spent looking at Instagram fashion reels and shopping for new things that I just knew I would love, but never quite hit the mark.
What I Hope to Find Along the Way
I want to understand why I shop the way I do, why I wear the same things repeatedly, why some pieces never make it out of the closet, how to create outfits instead of random collections of clothing, and how much I actually need to feel stylish and confident.
By the end of this process, I hope to have a more functional closet, a clearer sense of personal style, fewer but better outfit combinations, less clutter, less stress, and more appreciation for what I already own.
I don’t expect perfection.
I’m sure there will still be mistakes and impulse moments and pieces I never wear again.
But I do hope this process helps me understand myself a little better.
Not just my style. But my habits. My buying patterns. My insecurities. My aspirations. And the way I present myself to the world.
Mostly, I hope this becomes a process of clarity instead of consumption.
And if somewhere along the way you recognize a little of yourself in this too, I hope you’ll follow along with me.
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