American Apparel’s little black dresses

For some insane reason I decided it would be a fabulous idea to set about the incomprehensible task of “sorting out” my wardrobe. This took three days, four full bin bags and countless moments of shock and outright horror at some of the clothing choices made by my past self (note: tartan mini skirts are never, EVER acceptable unless for a Braveheart reconstruction).

During this long and arduous process I tried to be as cut throat as possible, keeping only those garments I would weep to see the back of and certain sentimental pieces that will be with me forever, even if never again worn.

Stella McCartney may have been the mother of the classic seven piece capsule collection but I have compiled my own, with ten pieces that make up my personal capsule wardrobe. Ten pieces that will never go in the "what the fuck where you thinking?!" pile.

1. The dress (the one makes grown men cry and buy you lots of expensive things). In my wardrobe this tag goes to any of my American Apparel dresses. Backless, short and bodycon but leaving enough to the imagination so the term "nasty whore" doesn't get thrown around. My favourite is the long-sleeved/low backed/cranberry number that a certain friend calls my "rape dress". Enough said.
 
2. The outfit to make your mother drag you to confession. Yes, control pants are underwear. Yes, when they have a sparkly nude-coloured, lace covered strip down the crotch, it may appear (key word) that you are showcasing certain shaved areas. All I'm saying is that it’s a mistake I will not be repeating.
 
3. The killer heels that are impossible to walk in but somehow have spent hours on the dancefloor. My feet are destroyed - ankles click when I twist them and on one occasion there was a puddle of fluid inside my shoes after several disco blisters burst at once. Nice image, I know. Yet night after night I don the seven-inchers and party like its 1999. Disco blisters and panty flashes are worth it when you're suddenly the right height to reach the bar, believe me.
 
4. The sparkly something. Vintagey, sequiney loveliness is all it takes to vamp it up when you've got a case of the blues or you want to attract someone using the good old magpie method.
 
5. The family heirloom. My dear gran gave me her mother’s mink stole. It hangs from the curtain rod in my bedroom, the four faces and eight eyes watching me as I write this. Yet I am loathe to get rid of it, so the freaky furry four will continue to be my roommates (unless I find them a good owner who will wear them often).
 
6. The lumberjack shirt. This is a very underrated piece of clothing, one of those things you can fling on and feel instantly comfortable yet not too underdressed. I like mine oversized and made of cosy flannel, preferably accessorised by a yummy wood-chopping lumberjack to keep me warm and carve me pretty furniture. A girl can dream!
 
7. The faux fur coat. Glasgow winters are hard, cold and often last for years. Last winter I was convinced I would never feel warmth again and spent most of my time attempting hibernation. The only way you can actually survive is if you dress up like a fashionable grizzly. During those grueling, dark months, I lived deep inside my furry home, on several occasions sleeping in it when necessary. Furry coats are a pure necessity here, a matter of life and death in some cases. And you might as well look fabulous if you have to spend winter enduring the new ice age.
 
8. The biker jacket. This adds instant grungy sex appeal to any outfit. I have a cropped, fitted "worn round the edges" one which is perfect when getting your "I'm the frontman's girlfriend" look on.
 
9. The mascot. Everyone has one, something you wear when you need some extra luck. Mine is a tribal print scarf found in a suitcase in my parents’ attic. It's been to every interview, major event and examination. The time I almost lost it I was positive I would never be lucky again.
 
10. The something you will never wear but cannot part with. The first dress I ever made - it took me over a week and I was so chuffed with the end result that it became the staple garment in my wardrobe. It not only holds sentimental value but also many memories. I made it at a time in my life when I was trying to decide who I was through what I was wearing, and what I was going to do with the rest of my years. You could say that dress took me from childhood to adulthood, and although it will remain hanging in the closet not to be worn again, for those reasons I can’t do anything but still love it.
 
In the future I hope that a Birkin bag, many a Manolo, and so much vintage Chanel that you could drown in it will be added to my wardrobe of key pieces, along with a walk-in wardrobe the size of a small country. Obviously.