Me a hoarder?

I admit it. I am a clothes hoarder... and a shoe hoarder... a purse hoarder... and jeweler.

That's all. That's all I hoard. I swear.

We've been married over twenty years and hubby still only has one drawer in the bedroom. I keep telling him it's because I haven't decided if I am keeping him or not.

Truth is I have every drawer and closet in the house bursting with stuff. I am afraid to answer the door when the bell rings because it could be the A&E network bursting in to do an intervention and force me on that Hoarding show.

I not only have my closet full but I have my daughter’s closet full and I just put two big closets in the upstairs hall to hold my suits and dresses!

Shoes! I AM the old lady who lived in the shoe! I am afraid to c

ount how many pairs I have.

Every week I buy more! Not just for me but for my kids too.

A few weeks ago I decided enough is enough. It's time to get that hoarding monkey off my back. I took a box of those big orange industrial size garbage bags and decided to clean out the closets.

Rule number one: If I haven't worn it in the last year, it has to go.

Rule number two: If it's older than my children, it has to go.

Rule number three: Unless it's a wedding dress or a Christening gown, clothes do not have sentimental value.

Fill those bags. I realized as I was going through my stuff my closets had become a museum to the 80s, 90s and 2000s.

I did well. I threw out all my Lady Diana blouses (the ones with the lace collar and black string tie). Notice I said "Lady" Diana, not "Princess" Diana. My blouses even predate her royal title.

A white leather mini skirt (What the hell was I thinking). I wore that to the Tina Turner concert at St. John's Memorial Stadium with shiny black leather four inch heels and fish-net nylons. I used a full can of Aqua-Net to hold my Tina Look-a-like hairdo in place. Now that I think about it, I looked more like a drag-queen imitating Tina. Because of the 80s, there's a hole in the ozone layer with my name on it.

Jeans in size 12, 10, 9,8 and even a 6! Yes, Like Oprah, I am every woman or at least I've been every size over the past thirty years. I even found a pair of Jordache jeans that I remember dancing to Wham's "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" at Club Max. There was a pair of Calvin Klein. Apparently nothing comes between me and my Calvin's, not even a few decades. And of course, the pièce de résistance - the jeans with the hundreds of rips up and down the legs. The ones that would send my Mother into a complete tizzy!

Maternity clothes, like I was ever going to wear them again!

Painting clothes, like I was ever going to wear them again!

Half way through my closet the decade changes to the 90s. I remember having the "The Rachel" hair cut like every other girl on George Street.

I did find a pair of jean over-alls that I wore everywhere! And yes, I did wear them with one strap undone. I remember dancing up George Street to "Come on Eileen" in those.

In the back of the basement closet I found my red Doc Martens. I bought them in Toronto around 1991. I was too cool for school in these beauties. I wore them with Madonna lace skirts, my Gloria Vanderbilt jeans, dresses, bike shorts, you name it. If these boots could talk I would have to put them in a witness protection program. Now they're on their way to the Salvation Army. It's like giving a friend away.

My closets are like a tribute to musical history. Directly influenced by Tina Turner, Madonna, Wham and every other artist that made the 80's and 90's fun.

My clothes made a drastic change around the late 90s and into the 2000s. That's when I supposedly grew up. I had children and went from a party girl to a professional lady.

Mini shirts changed to respectable suits and four inch heels and Doc Martens were sent to the down stairs closet to make way for sleeker, more professional shoes. The fish nets were thrown out to make way for control-top panty hose. My jeans turned darker with no rips or patches. Suddenly I had a closet of "Big girl" clothes.

It took two days to clean out my closet and my children's. In all, eight big orange garbage bags were carted off to the Salvation Army. Eight big bags of memories, bad decisions, impulse buys and "I once looked hot in that" items were sent off to a place where other people will get a chance to wear them.

I couldn't help but wonder how much all that stuff cost me over the years. There's probably thousands of dollars in those bags. Some of it may still be on my credit card statement.

It's time to let the 80s and the 90s go and die in piece.

I imagine that some afternoon I will be driving downtown and a homeless person will cross the street in front of my car. She'll be wearing my red Doc Martens, ripped Calvin Kleins and lace Madonna top. I'll roll down the window and scream to the top of my lungs, "YOU GO GIRL! YOU LOOK HOT! THE 80s ROCK!"