There was an overwhelming itch beginning to appear in the back of my brain sometime this September before a night out. It happens more often than I'd like to admit, and it consists of the same thought circling over and over again: / need more clothes. I need to go shopping. I need more clothes. I need to go shopping. And while I would love to add the specific piece I desired onto a list and begin to look for said item - or a piece that matches the general vibe - in thrift stores for the next few weeks/months/years until I finally found it, when it is the day before a night at the bar and you really need to see yourself in a cute dress or a halter top that you don't own, the general consensus is to buy it almost immediately at the Urban Outfitters on Princess, or order it online for over 40 dollars, plus shipping. So here I was, stressing in my closet, desperate for something to wear and almost certain I would be heading out with my very little money to buy something that I was sure to wear for one night and never again. (We all fall victim to overconsumption sometimes!)
Enter: my friend, and fellow radio co-host, Madison. We were going to a concert that night, hence my struggles, and after class that afternoon she asked me, "Hey, I really like that one shirt in your closet. You know, the white one with the buttons and the puffy sleeves? Do you think I could try it on, and maybe wear it for tonight?"
Without really thinking about it, I said "Sure, of course!" Although, I had never really lent my clothing to others with the expectation of getting it back. Of course, there had been t-shirts and hoodies lost in the throes of the laundry machine and ending up in my roommate's closet, but my nice clothes - the clothes I reserved for special nights and coordinated fits for class - had never really occurred to me as options to trade. I had never been a super thin girl, and while most of my friends had always traded closets before parties or club nights, I had never felt like it was an option for me. But, Madison said she was going to swing by after class, and I was immediately excited, albeit maybe a little nervous.
We ended up in my bedroom, along with my roommate Julia, blasting music and throwing all sorts of stuff in my closet on my bed, trying to come up with cute combinations for the concert that night. Madison tried on the white blouse and loved it, but felt it wasn't the right energy for the night ahead. She did, however, fall in love with many pieces that I had, including one of my midi skirts that l'd owned for years. It was thrifted with a scalloped edge around the waist, flowy layers, and a navy blue colour with a white intricate paisley pattern. It was a constant in my wardrobe from my constant thrifting back during the pandemic.
Not only did Madison make me feel so much better about my closet (the anxieties around my "ugly" clothes propelling me to make awful choices that lead to nothing but buyer's regret) she revolutionized it, when she pushed the skirt up past her waist and said to me "I think this would look awesome as a mini dress!"
And, oh my god, it did.
It was so, so cute. I took another midi skirt from my closet - one that I had bought at the same time as the blue one, a lovely tan colour with a similar paisley print on it - and let it rest right below my collarbones. We threw on whatever boots we could find, still dancing around my room to songs that made us feel like we were in a makeover montage in a teen movie, and posed in my mirror. I was elated at this moment, seeing myself and one of my closest friends feel so confident and looking fantastic in pieces from my closet. When I finally settled on my tan skirt (as a skirt) with a sleek black top, she told me she has the perfect bag to compliment the outfit, and we were both set.
When discussing how awesome that experience was with some more of my friends later that afternoon, we concluded that it quenched the thirst to shop without having to spend a single cent. I didn't even borrow any clothes from Madison, but seeing her rustle through my closet and pick out certain pieces I hadn't worn in a while made me excited to create new outfits with things I already owned. Not only is clothes swapping fun while also being a sustainable option, but it forges intimacy as well. In Isabella Santiago's blog post titled "The Intimacy of Shared Clothing" she says that our clothes are "our second skin; they're not merely garments but extensions of ourselves, our first impressions, our very psyche in cotton" (Strike Magazine). I felt closer to another woman in my life by extending this part of myself that I usually kept only to myself, either out of insecurity of the size on the tag or the fear of losing a piece that I can't get back. In sharing my clothes, I was vulnerable in so many ways, and my newfound joy of sharing clothes with friends has solidified my view of fashion as one of the most joyful things for your own personhood and your community. So next time you're stressed about your lack of options, go through your roommates or best friends stuff! Or better yet, let them scurry through your own clothes, and feel reinvigorated to use the most sustainable (and cutest) items in fashion - exactly what is in your own closet.
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