Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. I know the old idiom. And really, I get it. And I don’t. Hi there, here’s me being incredibly thankful for all the gifts handed to me in this life. But a clothes horse? That’s another matter entirely.

I have a lot of clothes, but I wear the same few outfits over and over again. I purchase multiples of staples like jeans and tank tops to take the tough decision-making out of dressing for everyday events. I have dresses for any number of occasions from BBQ to tea party to black-tie affair. I have a shiny sequined  shrug, several suede leather jackets (which you can’t wear in Oregon. Ever.) more cropped colored sweaters than I can count, and a coat closet full of coats for every weather situation. I have skirts, slacks, suits blouses, sweaters, tops, scarves, hats, leggings, tights, stockings and more socks than is strictly reasonable. I have a giant drawer for bras. And another for underwear. I have a lot of clothes. It would be fair to say I have too many.

But you know what, I’m a grown ass woman. I’ve been collecting clothes for ages now. I have sweaters from 15 years ago. I have jackets from 20 years ago. Things accumulate.

I am under the impression though that my child has more clothing than I have. We’ve been incredibly fortunate to receive awesome hand-me-downs over the years from generous family and friends. Family and friends with awesome fashion sense and style to boot. Plus grandparents who love to buy her back to school clothes each year. And then there’s gifts for birthdays and holidays. Plus the items she carefully selects whenever given a chance. And the pieces so fantastic that I can’t help but pick them up to expand her ever evolving wardrobe. She has more than enough clothing to fill a walk-in closet, let alone her closet. Add to that all the dance gear that litters our home. And an unreasonable number of conference and WordPress shirts.

Much like me she wears the same things over and over again. But somehow clothes she never wears are in the wash all the time. Clothes that don’t fit stay in heavy rotation. Clothes that are her very favorite are never worn because they’re hidden under a rock, hanging from a tree, or  much more likely shoved in some dark recess of her closet covered in unwanted toys and misplaced school work.

Today, with a mighty roar from me and an unacceptable though understandable amount of eye rolling from her, we’re working to look that clothes horse right in the mouth. Examine its tongue and take a healthy look down its esophagus as we get some of this clothing clutter our of our home.

Spring cleaning? No. Purging. Spring purging, as I’m sure there will be another clothes binge in the fall.

What about my clothes, you ask? I got rid of a dress. What more do want from me?