Problems Of A Hoarder

I am a hoarder. My friends, family and room-mates will confirm this fact. As a lover of fashion and beauty, I obviously love collecting clothes, shoes, skin care products, bags, accessories and cosmetics. But, I am also a lover of many other things. And so I also love collecting pens, shopping bags, pans, containers, gift wrapper, books, painted pots, coffee mugs, plants, perfumes – the list goes on. Cute things, colorful things, some-day-it-will-be-handy things – I keep collecting.

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Every time I have moved houses and cities, my excessive stuff has caused me numerous problems, stress and depression the most prominent. Stress because of the volume and depression because of realization of how much money I have spent in all the extra, unnecessary possessions. Each time I vow to curtail my purchases but do I stay committed? You probably know the answer.

In the beginning of 2014, I did resolve to shop less (for clothes and accessories) and reuse – recycle what I already own. In my Fabrics Analysis class (Spring ’14 semester), we did an assignment on effects of textiles on environment and calculated our own environmental footprint. In that, too, I stated:

– I have way too many clothes (having been a compulsive buyer all my life). This is something I realized lately because I have no space to keep them. I don’t fit into half of the clothes, don’t even know what clothes exist in my wardrobe and just do not know what to do with many clothes – can’t keep them, can’t throw them. This year, I have resolved to NOT buy any clothes (except absolutely essential items that need to be replaced) and so far I am doing well.

– I will give away my old and unfit clothes to charity, orphanages or Salvation Army so that they can be put to good use.

..to which the instructor replied – Well said!

Recently, I noticed that the number of my eye pencils looked lesser than usual. I would stare at the holder for minutes trying to place why they looked reduced and which ones were missing. I couldn’t. I have so many that I don’t even remember which ones I own. Later, my husband admitted he had accidently knocked over the case and few had fallen behind the cabinet. I located four, put them back and when the holder again started toppling over with the weight of pencils, I felt things were back to normal.

That’s what I am used to. Excess. Overload. Stuff everywhere. Things overflowing. Cabinets bursting.

So that is problem number one. Overcrowding. Lack of space. The situation that I am in right now, I do not have place to keep even one extra t-shirt. Strictly no. Hangers are breaking. Drawers are so stuffed that things are falling off from behind. Clothes are so tightly stuffed they are getting deformed and are getting permanent creases. Don’t ask. Terrible.

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Just like it happened with eye pencils, I don’t even remember what clothes, shoes and accessories I own! My bags are in a big plastic storage container. I tend to use the ones on the top. The bags lying deep inside are forgotten. I may rediscover something months (or years) later only to find its surface peeling or stained. So many of my clothes and shoes got spoilt because they had been lying unused for years. I don’t get to use all of them regularly because there are so many. And because there are too many, I don’t remember which ones I own. See the paradox?

There are so many clothes I have grown out of. I still own 4-5 year old pieces. How in the world did I think I would retain my shape and size all these years? No way. I don’t fit into so many. If I do fit into them, they look like they would burst off me. You think its right to believe that someday I will lose weight and fit into them? Because that’s what I have been telling myself..

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I may very proudly say that I still have clothes from my school days that I can fit into and do wear regularly – at the risk of appearing outdated. Problem number four. I own so many clothes and bags that are in perfect condition but they are passé now. You no longer see them on the streets or in shops. But you will still find them in my closet. Good thing? Lousy thing? I can’t throw them because they look as good as new (obviously they will, because I must have used each just once or twice a year). Nor can I give them away. So they are stuck with me.

That gives people enough reason to say – why do you want to buy more clothes; you already have so many. Yes, I know, I know but..! Problem number five. All you girls who have to exercise high self restraint can understand what I am saying, right?

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Enough problems come with compulsive buying. You see the impact of it only after some time has passed. I have learnt it – again and again – the hard way. So now, after all these years of hoarding and overcrowding, I am NOT shopping more, I AM trying to lose weight, I AM trying to style my old clothes (that look brand new, some with tags still on) in ways that look trendy, I AM digging out hidden, forgotten clothes / shoes / bags / accessories and using them and I AM not repeating clothes so everything gets a chance.

But you know, it’s too much stress and work, doing all this. It is better to invest in classy, evergreen pieces from good brands rather than collecting a whole bunch of random stuff. Quality is a way better idea than quantity here.

What do you say?

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Shopping Trip

I dumped my work stuff in my house and rushed out. I walked steadily towards the venue, my hair escaping from the bun. I rushed through smoke and dust; my platform slippers flipped wet mud droplets on my legs. I did not bother. I was late already. A weekend had just got over. Here I was, waking up on a Tuesday to start the mission.

 

Still, I was confident I will pull it off. I am an old player in this game, after all.

 

I reached, panting and sweaty, all the perfume mostly faded (whatever strain I may be in, time / money, looking and dressing good can never be compromised on. I feel). I ran up the stairs, entered the sliding doors and sighed noisily. I smiled at the mannequins, startling the poor guard. I devoured the smells of the place. I’m here, finally, I thought.

 

Shopping! The mall! Nothing makes me happier.

 

I went on a clothes-picking frenzy pushing little girls and fat ladies aside in the process. I have a mission to accomplish; I glared at them haughtily. So what if I have enough clothes to clothe half of the city, I still deserve better things in life. After all the anguish and suffering I go through being a single working girl, don’t I deserve some, at least little reward? I picked that shirt with the cute colour and I also picked that top with the jazzy buttons. So what if I didn’t like the shirt’s cloth or the top’s colour. You can’t get everything, you know.

 

Shopping being such a wonderful therapy that cures so many problems faced by ladies log, I hate when it causes pain. The pain of having to choose just one pair of jeans. Or just one scarf, and keep back all those trendy pieces you picked up. So I just pick them all. What if I find someone else wearing a similar piece some day? How will I console my poor heart? How will I compensate my deprived heart?

 

I beat girls to trial rooms. I studied the pieces on shelves and hoarded them on my arm like they were groceries till my arm felt senseless. I rummaged through racks, much to the salesgirl’s distress and picked out every item of my size (and a size lower and higher) and dragged them into the tiny trial room.

 

‘Size S in this? And longer shorts like these?’ I rattled off queries enthusiastically to the salesgirl.

 

‘No’, the grumpy salesgirl replied coldly and scuttled away.

 

How mean!

 

‘Hmph’ I frowned. ‘Poor thing. Must be really frustrated about something. Pity.’

 

My shopaholic aura must have been spotted by the salesgirls by the jewellery counter. I looked through the racks importantly while those girls hung around me like bees. I shoved a few items into a girl’s hands, asking her to hold them for me and flung orders at her. The girl looked gobsmacked. I ignored. I was on a roll and no one could come in my way. I picked up more items to try and moved towards the trial rooms leaving her looking lost holding the accessories basket in her hand. It is always like this when I shop. Salesgirls just become my personal assistants for some time.

 

After I was convinced that I had left nothing untried, I made my way to the counter (and made another trip to the trial room because I saw something on the way). My smug expression was wiped off for a moment when the bill amount was displayed. What the hell is with inflation?! But well, I wanted it, I bought it.

 

I walked out of the mall a little shaken. I passed my neighbourhood boutique and bowed my head. Enough (for today).

 

I wonder what Daddy Dearest, who keeps a tab on my bank account activities, will say and when.

 

Is this how you shop too? How do you shop?