How To Steal Your Mum's Clothes Like A Champ
The Debrief: HELP ME I'M POOR
Let’s face it, kid. You’re never going to have enough money to buy your dream wardrobe and, even if you did, you’d get bored of it in like, five minutes. Because you’re a fickle, fickle person. Yes, you are. And we are, too.
How’s about then, you turn to your mum’s wardrobe for new sartorial finds. If your mum’s anything like mine, she’s got a treasure trove of stuff that’s got your name wrttien all over it. Don’t feel bad. Your parents had it all: low house prices, jobs with career trajectories that made sense and (obvs) YOU. You have none of that. So erm, steal from them? Wait, this has all come out terribly wrong. I’m a terrible person. Read my tips and don’t hate me, please.
Just because something’s pretty doesn’t mean it suits you
FOR REALS. Just look at the satin red jumpsuit and full floral wrap skirt I pilfered that are currently taking up space in my wardrobe that’s so small it only fits roughly three items of clothing in at any one time. Sure, they look amazing on the hanger and probably, in the 1980s, they looked very good on the wearer. But unless you’re one of those people who thinks it’s a good idea to use items of clothing as wall displays (hint: it’s not, unless you want your bedroom to become Moth City) then leave the more extravagant items back in Mum’s room.
Don’t worry about the sizes
The first time I borrowed something from my mum I was probably 17 and a size eight because I hadn’t discovered white wine and/or late night kebab shops. Imagine my dismay then, when my mum’s size 14 dress from 1984 failed to do up round the middle. ‘Oh, we were just slimmer back then,’ my friend’s mum said. No, actually Deirdre, you weren’t. Your sizes were smaller, so don’t try and weight-shame me at this formative time in my life. SO, if you try on something small that says it’s big, ignore it. It’s all the acid they were taking back in the day talking. (Maybe).
WATCH OUT FOR MOTHS
This is probably only relevant if your mum is enough of a hoarder to still havestuff from before you were born that’s been stashed in a cupboard/box/underbed wardrobe somewhere for the better part of a decade. Take something from one of these locations, hang it in your normal wardrobe and in three days moths (aka the pirhanas of the cloth, as I like to call them) will have eaten the rest of your clothes, too. Little buggers.
Spray any new (old) addition to your wardrobe with this shit before you hang it up. It’s expensive, but less expensive than replacing everything you own and it really does actually work.
Find out the items’ back stories
This is the real joy of stealing clothes from your mum: when someone’s like, ‘Oh I really like your bag’ and you can be all like, ‘Thanks, my mum bought it in Morocco in the 1970s from a travelling nomad’ and they’ll be all like, ‘Oooooooh’ and you’ll be like, ‘Yeah’.
So, ask Mum where they came from, get the story, and give yourself a chance to show off.*
*10/10 not responsible if she replies, ‘Oh that skirt? You were concieved in it.’
Learn to sew and stop being useless
I certainly couldn’t sew like a whole dress, but the amount of girls and guys who are like, ‘Oh no a button came off, better throw that shirt out’ is astounding. Chances are your mum’s old stuff isn’t going to be in tip-top condition but that’s no excuse to pass it by.
Here’s a simple patching how-to, here’s how to sew a button on, and here’s how to fix a hem. It’s not rocket science, ladies. Our foremothers made all their clothes and would almost certainly burn you at the stake for chucking something out just because of a little rip.
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