Recently I read about the #30wears movement in the newspaper and was delighted to see that finally my doom scrolling has paid off.
Started by a climate activist, it’s become a bit of a hit on Instagram. A nice change from reading about models who make money out of product placement, and self-educated well being activists who know more about how to survive a pandemic than all of the doctors and nurses in our health system put together.
This particular Instagrammer’s aim is much simpler: to wear each item of clothing in her wardrobe at least thirty times. It’s an idea that’s gained traction amongst some influential people who are not afraid to be seen in public in the same clothes over and over again. For example, the article suggested that Angela Merkel has seven brightly coloured blazers that she wears on weekly rotation over black trousers. And Jill Biden was spotted in the same dress twice, or was that the same spotted dress? And of course, although I wasn’t mentioned in the article, I too have been known to wear an outfit more than once.
In the past I’ve been concerned that this might impact on my career. But now, I can let go of any lingering doubts that consistently appearing in my PJs for online work meetings is not appropriate. And it’s a relief to know that this is not the cause of the regular emails from HR about retirement planning. Perhaps they missed the memo that I won’t be eligible for any government pension until 2037. That’s another 17 years of wearing PJs to online meetings. Because if you think we’re returning to the office anytime soon you should probably be put out to pasture.
And I can now stop worrying that the important people in my life, like the security guard at Woollies who stops me to make sure I’ve checked in, will notice that I’m wearing the same trackies and jumper that I wore yesterday, and the day before, and the week before that.
But best of all, I can shed my shame about appearing two years running in the same dress at the family Christmas lunch; not that the way things are going there will be a family Christmas lunch, to worry about what to wear to, this year.
In fact, I got so excited about this celebration of wearing the same clothes over and over again that I decided to spend some of my valuable
I like to use the word wardrobe because it connotes a large, beautifully organised, walk in space; quite unlike the broom stick, held up by two giant black plastic clamps, that my, and my partner’s, clothes actually hang on.
I decided to peruse my open air closet and calculate how many times I’ve worn each item. I recommend this activity if you’ve run out of things to do this lock down. It’s wonderfully time consuming and requires only a hyper calculator and a lot of time. I discovered that some of my clothes are so old they are not so much clothes, as a second skin. I’ve worn them so often that people would have trouble recognising me without them. And as I calculated the years they’ve kept me company I had a lot of fun designing little hash tags for them.
Finally, I’m done. Chuffed to be doing my bit for the planet I can upload these images onto my new Instagram page
and sit back proudly.