I have a confession to make. I have an entire room for my clothes. It was once the twins’ bedroom and then we built a wing for them from where they could entertain and command room service (not really, but it certainly felt like that).
It was a smallish room, so I filled it with clothes racks and shelves, all non permanent, and it looks like a sort of untidy pop-up sale most of the time. As opposed to a Mariah Carey-style, walk-in wardrobe/suite with plush-pile carpet and silent, glass-fronted drawers.
I try to follow the ‘if it doesn’t give you joy then throw it away’ philosophy, as per Marie Kondo in her international bestseller, The Life Changing Magic Of Tidying Up. Nor am I particularly sentimental. But some things are simply hard to part with.
I have a tiny strapless gold-and-black, lace micro-mini that I bought at Paddington Markets in the ’80’s that would probably fit one thigh now. But it’s staying. I use it as a drawer liner.
There’s the black-and-white floral, silk, button-through dress I bought in Barneys in New York that I wore with fishnets and a beret when I met my husband in Paris in 1992.
It has since gone stiff with age (don’t we all), but I pop it on every now and again to see if it still fits.
I have a Helmut Lang denim jacket that was quite the thing to wear in the mid-90s (accessorised with a pashmina), that I still wear.
Given that I worked at Vogue, I was required to have some designer pieces, but I tended to just buy one or two things a season, and pad the rest out with high street items so as not to break the bank. So my wardrobe is hardly groaning with labels.
I also try to follow the rule that if you buy something new, you move two things out. But it is hard to let go of some of them because they remind me of career milestones, and the fact that I had worked hard and saved up to buy them.
There is my first (and only) tweed Chanel jacket, that I now wear with blue jeans so it doesn’t look too matronly, and an oversized blue Armani overcoat from 1990 that is so classic, I get comments on it when I wear it today.
There is also a beige puffa jacket that I bought to wear to watch the boys play school sport. I wore it to a soccer game one bitterly cold Saturday morning in 2000 and thought: “Gee, this sucks,” and promptly turned the duties over to my husband. But I like to look at it and remind myself that the thought was there.
I will always keep my grandmother’s amber beads, and my Mum’s mad, leopard Christian Lacroix sunglasses, which will only look better as I get older.
Jeans, my old Armani overcoat and some leopard sunnies. Come to think of it, I probably don’t need that whole room anymore.