Organizing a Fantastic Clothing Exchange
One way to challenge the rising tide of unsustainable consumerism is to fight the mindset of disposing of clothing that, for one reason or another, no longer belongs in your wardrobe. While businesses such as Buffalo Exchange or local consignment shops might fill the wardrobe recycling niche to some extent, organizing a clothing exchange with your friends is an effective way to refresh a wardrobe without taking a painful bite out of an already limited resource.
My girlfriends and I just celebrated the 15th anniversary of our semi-annual clothing exchange. We’ve worked out kinks over the years, and this is how we do it.
First, all of the women who attend are stylish and professional, and we tend to stay within a certain size range. One of the reasons for our success is that we all wear almost the same size. While shoe sizes vary, all of the ladies are 0-4. The range you choose might be 12-16, 6-9, etc. As long as all of the ladies invited fall closely enough inside the range, everyone will leave with new clothes that fit. A size 2 at a 12-16 event won’t find much to make her happy.
Our exchange is a longstanding a tradition. Whoever hosts agrees to provide some sort of refreshment, and ideally has a large back yard. We invite 15-20 vetted, stylish girlfriends. The hostess places a large blue tarp in the back yard. Inside, four or five large mirrors are set up. As the ladies arrive, each dumps her bags of garments onto the tarp. Bonus points for mixing them up so that your clothes are distributed evenly. A few tables set up near the tarp are designated for shoes, bags, jewelry, and accessories. About 20 minutes after the start time, the pile has grown large and resembles a Pollack painting bursting with bright linens, ribbed corsets, whimsical chiffon, and pleated skirts. No one is allowed to touch or examine the clothing once it is in the pile, tempting as it may be. We don’t comment on that Free People sundress we so covet, but secretly stake out territory and plan a strategy. The lovely, interesting women circulate, nibbling chocolate strawberries and sipping wine, waiting for the cowbell. We catch up on international trips, career success, breakups and marriages, and children.
Our original organizer is an engineer now living in New Zealand, but she’s handed off the torch. The hostess asks for silence to reiterate the rules before the bell.
- You must try on every item that you take.
- Never reveal that a friend is trying on a garment you brought. We are only allowed to comment on how our friend looks in the garment.
- Be polite. We are all friends, and we respect the exchange. Don’t bring too little or take too much.
- We are all beautiful, successful, smart women, and today we celebrate ourselves.
Our hostess clangs the ancient cowbell, releasing a lady-like frenzy onto the tarp. Scantily-clad women crouch, bend, and crawl into the pile, tugging at DKNY blouse sleeves, scoring gently used Guess Daredevils, putting on ribbed corsets over their T shirts. We enter the house with our finds, and proceed to transform into runway models, cavorting in front of mirrors in a black beret, leather skirt, and Fluvog storm trooper boots (yes, I actually walked away with a deep purple pair last time). Inside trades take place as ladies toss dresses, pants, and jackets to others they deem appropriate.
Our exchange doesn’t last more than a couple of hours from set up to break down. We donate all clothing items that no one wanted to a local women’s shelter, taking turns boxing and transporting the donation the next day. Best of all are the compliments. When I hear “Gorgeous skirt,” I think of my lovely, stylish friends and the clothing exchange where garments are recycled and friendships renewed.
sabasabas 