As I stand in front of my wardrobe, staring at decades of carefully curated fashion, a question lingers: should I keep my clothes for my daughters to enjoy one day, or is it time to embrace a clutter-free life?
Fashion is cyclical, after all. Trends I once adored—90s slip dresses, 80s power blazers, and those Y2K baguette bags—are making a comeback. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if my daughters one day rummaged through my collection and found a vintage gem they adore? There’s something sentimental about passing down clothes that have stories woven into them. The dress I wore to my school formal (27 years ago) , the handbag I saved up for (circa 2000), the Dior jacket I bought on eBay in 2008 —imagine them carrying on that legacy!
My own mother kept a trunk on her clothes from the 1970s that I ADORED when I discovered them at around the age of 13. Flares, long boots, Laura Ashley dresses, I can’t help but think that it was a pivotal moment in how I dress today as an adult.
![long black boots](https://www.ladymelbourne.com.au/wp-content/uploads/2025/02/boots-1024x493.jpg)
I bought these long black boots in 2008, here’s the picture from the first time they appeared on Lady Melbourne. And I still wear them today. When I look at pictures of them from way back when I thank myself that I didn’t throw them out!
![Long black boots with Megan Park dress](https://www.ladymelbourne.com.au/wp-content/uploads/2025/02/black-boots-megan-park-dress-1021x1024.jpg)
Here they are in 2024!
But then I consider the flip side. While fashion does repeat itself, it never comes back exactly the same. Silhouettes shift, fabrics evolve, and let’s be honest, my daughters might have their own tastes that don’t involve my “vintage” wardrobe. What if, after years of careful storage, my treasures are met with a polite, “Ok Boomer, I’m good…”?
Then there’s the clutter. Do I really need to keep every designer piece, every statement jacket, on the off chance they’ll one day be worn again? Let alone by me, forget my daughters and their imaginary appreciation of what I’ve kept in the attic. There’s something liberating about a well-edited wardrobe—only keeping what I truly wear and love, rather than hoarding “just in case” items that might never see the light of day.
Perhaps the answer lies in balance. Some pieces—true heirlooms, investment pieces, or sentimental garments—deserve to be preserved. But others? Maybe it’s time to let them go and trust that, if my daughters want to embrace vintage fashion, they’ll find their own treasures in thrift stores or even my pared-down collection.
So, what do you think? Keep the heirlooms or clear the clutter?