I’ve got some admissions to make. For six years, I refused to get rid of my square-toed Kenneth Cole dress shoes. Through wrinkled envy, my stylish friends watched me march into interviews, weddings and semi-formal events wearing those embarrassments with a stubborn pride that was entirely undeserved.
Style mentors shuddered when I put them on. Others tactfully offered to “help me update my footwear.” But like some stubborn mum with taxidermy sloths, I held onto my boxy rubber cement shoes until I accidentally caught a glimpse of myself in a full-length mirror (the kind that doesn’t lie) at department store and realised that they were instantly making my otherwise-curated ensembles look like I HAD GIVEN UP. Into the donation bin they went that day.
My shame knew no bounds. This was my fashion Purge Armageddon.
I still think about those shoes haunting the backs of bargain bins somewhere.
Cuddling with the ghosts of affordable menswear rejects past. Waiting to ruin another poor schlub’s wardrobe. We all have them.
Stubborn, ridiculous articles of clothing we’ve held onto WAY past their expiration date despite having absolutely no place in our closets. Maybe we convince ourselves they’ll come back in style. Maybe we hate to let go of items we spent actual money on.
Maybe we tell ourselves “nah bro, I still fit in those trousers.” Spoiler alert: you don’t. The reality is that for every “winterwhite” item that graces the pages of GQ or vests that make miraculous comebacks, 10 other pieces will remain as forgotten as charcoal joggers. So without further ado, let’s take care of some wardrobe homicides, shall we?
Consider this therapy. I did all this egregious closet stuff so you don’t have to (wine optional…but definitely wine.) Buy yourself a spirit animal and lets do this. FIRST: Magically fluffy jumper/cardigan/slouchy shirt material.
You know what I’m talking about – those suspicious little pills that form after years of repeated washing and wear. A couple of them here and there aren’t the end of the world and can easily be brushed away with something known as a fabric shaver (AKA magic goog.). But if your beloved infinity scarf looks like a sad aging rabbit that hasn’t seen a razor in months?
Donate it. Skin-deep fuzz and pills are one thing. But once your favourite jumper starts resembling that one discarded stuffed animal with the grungy outer layer you once loved, it’s time to cut your losses.
Literally. I’ve had grown men send me pictures of their jumper gridirons asking me – in painfully genuine tones – whether they could still wear them on dates. To which I reply: FUCK NO YOU CAN NOT.
Jumpers do not providesexy bangs or torso halo effects, friends. They’re supposed to keep you warm. And when they get THAT pilly?
Neither can. SECOND: Baggy undershirts. And/or undershirts that have lost their crisp whiteness.
Don’t act like you don’t own multiple versions of these thinly-cut cotton servants who silently judge your physique day in and day out. When your undershirts start looking like they belong on a beige Food Network backdrop or your backpack collection is so extensive that you have to organise them by rotation? Toss ’em.
Bring in the new freshbs. Ever been told that your white undershirt is showing around your collar? Or how about that time you tried to button your shirt up only to find your shirt looking like a Hogwarts-approved sleeve??
Invest in some backups. They’re the nipple shields of menswear. And just like toddlers, they need frequent replacements.
I learned this the hard way when I went on a date many moons ago and my companion insisted that my shirt kept “ gaping open and showing her what looked like a dingy dish rag.” Great statGame. Thanks for letting me know. As I threw them in the trash that night while she calmly explained white cotton wasn’t trying to “make a statement.” PRO TIP: boxes of five undershirts at Target or Uniqlo cost like $20.
Buy new ones every six months. Your vagina will thank you. THIRD: Stretched out underwear.
Your boxers are NOT “breaking in,” they’re falling apart. Those boxer briefs with the rolled waistband that you have to constantly tighten? Throw them away.
Same goes for any pairs with funny faces on them that were cute when you were in college but now make you look like a lonely kid at a locker room party. And finally, any pair with holes where your dingaling is not clothes appropriate, ever. Everever.
My college roommate dubbed his deteriorating stash of boxers “the underwear of Theseus” as every time one pair got completely destroyed he’d sew another layer on top instead of just buying new underwear like a normal human with access to clean undies. It took me months of harassing and threatening to hide his underwear until he relented and threw the nasty lil bastard out. Three hours later he got a text from the girl he was seeing at the time telling him she noticed and specifically thanked me.
I’ll never forget that boner. Ok now let’s do some slightly more controversial purge list items: FOURTH: Offensive graphic t-shirts. Political jokes?
Bad. See ya. Novelty band shirts with hilarious unicorn prints??
KEEP THOSE. But any shirt with vague pseudorant (Hey Rookie! Biden!
TAKE THE BIKE LANE!) humour that you wouldn’t totally feel comfortable showing your parents? Purge. Those lady-friendly shirts with subtle boob jokes tucked away in the chest?
Gone. Weirdly sexual/suggestive beer shirts your girlfriend said were “kinda rude” but you kept anyway? Toss- toss toss.
A good litmus test: would you feel awkward wearing it in front of your child’s second-grade class? If yes, cut it out of your closet. Literally.
I ended up getting rid of a shirt in my purge that had BUBBLE LETTERS on the front promoting a hardcore bar. I used to think it made me look cool and tough. Every time I wore it out in public, women would subtly (or not so subtly) move away from me.
It was pride swallowing but I tossed it. Never looked back. FIFTH: Jeans with holes around the thighs/cuffs.
Elaborate stitching/details/embellishments. Listen, children’s jeans with holes/zippers/jewellery are cute. You wearing them are not.
Nor are jeans that look like they belong in a den mother’s closet from circa 1997. Remember when jeans with holes used to be rebellious and edgy? We were young….and unfortunately denim still hasn’t recovered.
Anything with ridiculous embellishments (looking at you Ed Hardy-esq jeans from American Eagle I found in my dad’s closet) or holes SO BIG THAT YOU CAN SEE YOUR LEG WHEN THEY’RE PAID should also be thrown into retirement immediately. At best, your ripped up jeans just look like you’re wearing denim stockings. If you think those jeans “break in nicely” you’d also probably pay BAMF admiringly.
Both are untrue. I kept a pair of jeans for YEARS that had so much orange stitching on the pockets and sides that they looked like they belonged on the UW Madison marching band. I honestly thought they gave me swagger.
They actually just made me look stupid. I knew it was time to chuck ’em when my girlfriend’s young nephew asked me why my trousers had “so many lines on them.” SIXTH: Damaged/dirty shoes. You know the drill: heels you can’t see due to years of wear, shoes with detached soles that flap dramatically with every step you take, flip flops molded to the shape of your feet.
THROW. AWAY. The only shoes you should keep with holes are trainers with holes you intentionally put there, son.
But Cabriolets? Boat shoes with cracks forming on the outer edges? Soledadies that have practically disintegrated from wear?
Donate them, friend. You’re not going to run across another decent rainy day umbrella like that in your life. I once had a pair of Vans that fell into this category.
So destroyed, the only thing holding the rubber pieces to the fabric were dirt and desperation. I held onto them for years until I stepped in a puddle one day and my sock instantly became damp with water from holes I didn’t even realise were there. Life lesson: if your shoes can no longer repel water, get rid of them.
SEVENTH: Clothing that doesn’t fit you right anymore. Suits jackets that pinch at the arms when you move, dress shirts that stretch ominously over your abdominal region threatening to expose your undershirt at the slightest provocation, trousers that USED TO FIT YOU BUT NOW YOUR CREEPING UP INSIDE AND IT’S UNCOMFORTABLE. RIP THEM.
This one kills me because men are WAY too guilty of hanging onto suits that no longer fit us like they’re some sort of magic garment that will GET Us one day. Newsflash guys: It’ll never happen. You fit the way you fit.
I kept a whole suit around for YEARS because I was “hoping to lose weight” and “trying to keep warm in the meantime.” Newsflash: that doesn’t work. I wore that mother thinking every day that maybe this will be the day I fit into my “goal suit.”Spoiler alert: it didn’t happen. Get rid of the damn thing.
Either alter it to fit how you look now OR donate it because believe it or not, there are skinny people out there who think that glow in the dark pink suit you bought in Vegas looks “cool.” EIGHTH: Stubborn stains. Yes, even white shirts. And yes, we’re looking at you.
Unless it’s raw denim you intentionally wear to look like a hippie plumber whose handled oneToo many love kids, stubborn stains that refuse to budge no matter how many times you wash that “sweet little tee” need to go. That “guess-what-I spilled-but-it’s-not-yours-maple-syrup-on-my-white-shirt” tan stain you cleverly disguised with fails? Gone.
The khakis with the exploded pen you thought would disappear after two washes? Trash. That cold brew coffee stain on your favourite jumper that you swear Hubby there isn’t there but your dog keeps licking?
YOU LIE LIKE A DOG. Leave it. I’m still haunted by the light blue oxford I threw out my freshman year of college.
What appeared to be a perfect representation of Italy spilled carelessly across my stomach in olive oil. I wore that thing for YEARS thinking it was “ironic” and that no one would notice. Then I wore it under a sweatshirt on a date and had to abruptly lift my jumper in a restaurant one time to hide the stain and caught my date’s eyes meet mine for just a second too long.
Brutal. But THANKFULLY over. NINTH: Fancy ties with faces on them.
ANYTHING WITH A THEME, really. Holiday ties? Please.
Novelty ties with dumb jokes/sports references/colourful skeletons singing? Gone, my friend. Gone.
When my wife and I first met I proudly sported an array of “conversation starter” ties as I liked to call them. One tiny martini glasses, another featured adorable golf clubs. If it could fit inside a sports figure, chances are I had it on a tie for maximum “look at me!” potential.
Boy was I wrong. They actually just shouted at me like I was too dumb to speak for myself. Once my now-wife casually told me my tie looked like it was “screaming so I didn’t have to,” I officially gave up on the gimmick.
Ok how about we do some less controversial ones to end on: TENTH: Raggedy socks with holes in them. Yes, even your favourite socks. If you’re rolling your eyes right now I hate thee.ROTFL with holes that expose your entire heel OR socks where the elastic band has completely given up and now doubles your socks at your ankles like a forgotten leg warmer from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, toss them in the heap.
Look, grown ass men with jobs SHOULD NOT be wearing socks with holes in them. It’s barbaric. And on days you DON’T wear holes?
Wear boots brah, not socks. I’ll never forget running to a meeting wearing dress socks with holes that I thought were completely decent. The moment I stepped outside my flat, I realised my dress shoes also had a giant hole in the sole of my shoe.
Congratulations Teddy, you’ve just created the world’s most efficient sweat factory for your feet. Every step was agony as my sock rapidly soaked up the moisture from the puddle I was blissfully unaware my shoe had created. Never has my foot been more embarrassed.
FINAL PURGE: Things that don’t feel good. Tops that make you feel constricted. Trousers that consistently give you a wedgie.
That itchy wool jumper that makes your neck itch like Freddy Kruger’s lap dog. These all autumn into the NIKE category: If.
You don’t feel comfortable wearing it – TRASH IT.
Why in the hell would you willingly wear something that makes you feel bad? It took me YEARS to realise my $300 winter coat I’d had since college “just needed to break in.” Newsflash Jonathan: it wasn’t breaking in. It was TORTURING me with every wear.
When I finally wrapped my brain around the idea that I wasn’t “ever going to be that guy who can pull off that coat” I was FREE. Purchased a warm, well-fitting wool coat on Costco’s half price day and never looked back. Your closet doesn’t have to look like a showroom to be healthy.
But if there’s one thing letting go of my very-large-and-very-white-trash-distressed-jean-collection taught me: Your closet will GROW with you as you let go of the things that no longer serve you. Heck, you might even learn to like shopping again. Trust me, I know.
I’ve spent the last six years forcing beautiful menswear into the donations bin. It’s kinda my thing.
