I'm sitting on my bed with my hands over my eyes because my boyfriend, Thomas, is about to Spring clean my wardrobe. It was my idea, and maybe I now regret it?
I was prepared to wait a good half hour for Thomas to decide what he didn't like . . . but three minutes later he's done.
To add insult to injury I was looking at a pile of pieces I wear on high rotation. Oof.
Noting my obvious discomfort, Thomas tells me he was scared he might cause irreparable damage to our relationship. I quickly reassured him that this is just a game and I love him no matter what. Oldest trick in the book, but he fell for it.
We are now separated.
I joke. But it was a testing morning. I have, after all, made a career in fashion. Finding out that he hated some of my most prized pieces — and had a lot of opinions on them, to boot — was a bitter pill to swallow. At the same time it was an interesting exercise and perhaps — just maybe — exactly what my wardrobe needed?
Or maybe not.
After pressing the record button on my phone, I listened [and slowly died inside] as Thomas explained why he would throw out each piece in the pile. Below is the unedited version, as it happened.