There’s a checkered dress in the back of my wardrobe. It is sophisticated. Mid-calf length,
puffy sleeves, but structured, body-hugging bodice. I haven’t worn it in years. It doesn’t fit
quite right anymore. But I can’t seem to let it go.

I bought it when I moved to New York City in 2017—a time when everything was new,
exhilarating, and terrifying. That dress was there with me as I went to work, walked through
neighborhoods I didn’t yet know, went out with my new friends, as I tried to belong in a city
that both not only thrilled me, but felt like coming home.

When I wore it, I felt the most me I had ever felt. It held freedom, curiosity, and hope and it gave me that level of confidence that made me feel strong. Letting it go feels like closing a chapter I’m still trying to find my way back to. But maybe the truth is: I’m not trying to go back. I’m trying to come home to that feeling again, wherever I am now.

Why We Hold On

In my work as a fashion psychologist, I see this all the time. A client will pull a piece from
their wardrobe and say, “I never wear this, but I can’t get rid of it.” Sometimes it’s a wedding
dress from a marriage that ended. Sometimes it’s a concert tee from their youth. Sometimes
it’s a blazer they haven’t worn in ten years but associate with a time when they felt powerful.
These clothes become emotional anchors. They hold memory, identity, and unfinished
stories. They remind us of versions of ourselves we haven’t quite let go of—whether
because we miss them, or because we’re still mourning who we might have been. Letting go
of a garment like that can feel like a second goodbye.

Psychologically, this is tied to a concept called “extended self” (Belk, 1988). Our
possessions, especially deeply personal ones like clothing, become extensions of who we
are. They are containers for memory and emotion. When we try to let them go, it can feel like
losing a part of ourselves.

And there’s a reason it feels that intense. Research shows that our brains don’t just file
memories away—they encode them in sensory detail. Texture, colour, scent, and even
weight become embedded in emotional memory (Rubin et al., 2003). So when we hold a
piece of clothing from our past, we’re not just holding cotton or silk. We’re touching a version
of ourselves, of our life, that we can still feel in our hands.

It makes our clothing an emotional time capsule.
Certain garments become bridges to the past. Not just because of how they look, buta time capsule of emotions because of what they witnessed.

I often ask my clients, “What memory lives inside this piece?” And the answers are rarely
about the clothing itself. Instead, they say:

● “This was the dress I wore when I felt seen.”
● “This reminds me of a version of myself I miss.”
● “I was wearing this the last time I felt in love.”

Memory isn’t always in photographs. Sometimes, it’s stitched into the fabric hanging at the
back of our closets.

When Keeping Clothes Keeps Us Stuck

But sometimes, holding on doesn’t serve us. Sometimes, we’re not preserving a
memory—we’re preserving a version of ourselves we’ve already outgrown.
I worked with a client who kept an entire rack of pre-baby clothing in a separate wardrobe.
She hadn’t touched it in years, but every time she opened that door, she felt shame. Not
nostalgia. Not joy. Just a quiet punishment. As if letting go of those clothes would mean letting
go of who she once was.

But our bodies change. Our lives change. And letting go isn’t forgetting. It’s making room.
When she finally donated the pieces that no longer reflected her life or her body, she
cried—and then said she could finally breathe. Her closet, once crowded with expectation,
became a space of possibility again.

Making Peace with What We Keep

You don’t have to declutter your wardrobe like a minimalist. And you don’t have to let go of
everything that holds meaning. But you can get curious:
● Is this piece a source of grounding or grief?
● Am I holding on to this to honour a memory, or to avoid facing change?
● Does this reflect who I am now, or someone I think I should still be?

Sometimes, the act of choosing to keep something with intention is as powerful as letting it
go.I’m not ready to part with the checkered dress. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But I also don’t need
to wear it to reclaim what it gave me. It reminds me of who I was. Of who I still am. And of who I’m becoming.

Coming Next Month:
“Dressing for Confidence: Clothing, Body Image, and Self-Perception”

We’ll explore how what we wear can shift our self-esteem, help us practice body neutrality,
and empower us through intentional style—whether it’s bold colour, structure, or softness.
Until then, if you find yourself holding on to something you never wear, ask yourself: What
am I really holding on to? Because clothing isn’t just about how it looks. It’s about how it holds us

For more on Jennifer, follow her socials at @style.my.mind