My life in boxes...(Part 1)
So, it's official... I am getting outta this town, me and my boy are leaving snowy, cold Dublin and jetting of sunny Oz!! It is the most exciting, spontaneous thing I have ever done - quitting our jobs, forgetting responsibilities, leaving reality behind... It's idyllic... I was walking on air, blissfully dreaming of my new life ahead.... UNTIL....... the packing started!!!!!
Let's make this clear, I have a major shopping addiction, couple this with a major hoarding problem and you get the dilemma facing me as I started the packing up process this week. Where the hell does a girl start?! K so I know I am only going for a year; there will be new clothes purchased; break it down; I can't bring it ALL with me, something's gotta give and stuff will HAVE to be left behind...But my oh my.. I had no idea how hard this would prove to be! I, by no means own a designer wardrobe, it's a mish mash of highstreet, designer, vintage, you name it- it's crazy, its excessive, but it's mine and a massive part of what defines me!
Obstacle number one: Tackling the shoe rack!!!
So with boxes in hand and the day on my side, I started the harrowing process of boxing up my shoes. Some to be binned, some to be left behind, some to be brought to Sydney and some... oh I dunno, some that I just can't bear to part with. I LOVE my shoes...I do not throw out shoes. Ever. As I sadly packed up ones that have seen their day, I felt incredible sad... shoes are like memories for me, I know where I got them, I know where I wore them and I know what I wore them with... And it dawned on me, was I doing my shoes an injustice?!!! Was I letting them down?!! Images of Woody and Buzz being packed up in the attic in Toy Story 3 came to mind...they were begging me not to throw them away...A pair of taupe Bertie platforms which are about 3 seasons old, massive purple Office platforms reminiscent of Celtic tiger fashion circa 2007, red bowed court shoes... each throwing up numerous options, cunningly weaving their way back into my heart .....and my wardrobe!!!
The Bertie's in particular kept catching my eye, they were packed in, taken out again, tried on, boxed up once more and then taken out again....As himself lay there, baffled at my complete inability to let go of these shoes, I asked if these ones could be spared... Surely they will be worn again, I reasoned....And so it was, I kept them... but I gotta toughen up, there is a hell of a lot of packing to do before I move outta this place... Stay tuned for part 2......Wish me luck!!!!
Naomi xx
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This didn't matter to me. I had spent the year throwing off any aspect of materialism in my life. My feet were constantly scuffed and dirty because I didn't bother to wear shoes most of the time. I had one pair of beaten up Birkenstocks that had traveled over 35,000 km on a road-trip. I vaguely remember that at one stage they had been white, but were now indescribable. My wardrobe consisted of a pair of hot pants that were once River Island jeans and a series of dresses that were worn to the point that my mother would turn her nose up at them for dish rags. I was a free spirit. What need had I of clothes?
In my crusading spirit I started lecturing my family to throw off the traps of materialism. My mother finally caved. There I stood in the attic demanding that she 'get rid of those black sacks' until one tipped over... and out tumbled a single teal Karen Millen wedged shoe with gold embroidery on the straps.
My eyes were drawn to that shoe, in the very same way they were when I first saw it on the shelf - with the magic SALE sticker attached. And I was undone!
I spent the afternoon sitting on the ground in front of a mirror gazing in wonder at each shoe that was pulled out of the bag. I experienced the 'shoppers high' like each was a brand spanking new purchase. Is it sad to say that I was more thrilled to see my shoes than I was to see my family? My afternoon shoe shopping from a black sack dispelled any post holiday blues. Feck being a hippy, how the hell had I owned such beautiful beautiful treasures? And then forgotten all about them? Suddenly I was proactively job seeking because, lets face it, shoes are completed by matching handbags. That teal sandal kick-started my entry back to the real world in the most magical positive way!
My piece of advice to you is:
Box them all up Naomi. There is a reason you bought each pair and you'll still feel the same way if/when you come home!