Archive | July 2, 2013

Decluttered Clothes: to sell or to donate?

I constantly waver between selling or donating the clothes I declutter.

On the donate side: I never bought the items with the thought of recouping their costs. My job is quite intense, with long hours, so I don’t have the time to fiddle around with listing, monitoring sales, packing and posting. One of the up sides of my job is that my pay is quite good, so I don’t need the money from selling items for a couple of dollars. I like helping the local charity by donating items of good quality. I want them out quickly and not hanging around the house cluttering up another spot.

On the sell side: Any money is good! I worry that some donated items will just end up in the bin or as rags. At least if someone buys it, the item might get worn. I have clothes that have been hardly worn (in a couple of cases, never worn), some vintage pieces and some retro or designer pieces. I really want them to go good homes – sad I know.

I think donating is winning. What do you do?

This week’s haul from my wardrobe:
A skirt I have never worn. I just can’t find a top that suits it and me. Or maybe the skirt just doesn’t suit me?

A long line cardy. It is quite nice and I liked it on me but I think I now look drab in it. And I have a nicer one anyway.

A top that is too stretched for me.
A skirt that no longer suits me. Long and black isn’t goth on a middle age sheila.
A top I quite like that I have just got too fat (Can I say that? Yes, given I am nearly 40% fat, I think I can.) for around the arm holes. Table 8, small. So I don’t feel too bad.
A rich green dressing gown. I felt quite medieval when I bought it but I realise I don’t like long dressing gowns. The flapping around my legs annoys me. This has hung on my door, sad and neglected.

My God. What are these? Swimmers, given to Mr Sans years ago. Thank goodness he never wore them and has finally consented to have them thrown away.

And finally, a vintage dress I bought when I was at uni, more than a quarter century ago, from a vintage dress shop. A lace, 60s number. With white lace-up boots, whoever wore this would look quite the miss. Hope this gets snaffled up by some young ‘un, who wants a Mod look.


Eight items. Not bad. More decluttering to come tomorrow.

A Conference for Mothers

I found one for you, Jo!

There seems to be a number of mothers who want to partake in the joys of a conference. And here’s one for you if you share such desires: The Bad Mothers’ Conference.

Now some may think there is something creepy, or even outrageous, to celebrate the horrors we inflict upon our children, and ourselves, as we muddle through life. Give me the self-deprecating humour of a (not really) bad mother who is self-aware. (And puts aside some money for future therapy for her children. Everyone is scarred in some way by their parents. And, hey, if they don’t need it, you have the funds for a holiday on an island resort.)

This is one of my favourite Bad Mothers’ Club meetings: The Christmas meeting.

If you are helicopter parent who won’t let her children take risks or, heaven forbid, fail; who fights every battle for them (even those they didn’t know they had); and who micromanages their life, including their homework, maybe you should read this Why Parents Need to let their Children Fail.