I almost built a wardrobe app to stop buying clothes. Here’s what I did instead

I have an obsession with looking at clothes online. There’s one second-hand store in particular, selling pieces from all sorts of fashion brands, and I can safely say at least 75% of my wardrobe now comes from it.

I’m pear-shaped, and finding clothes that suit me has always been hard. I like to feel sharp in what I wear: tailored, neat, put-together. But I don’t want to look too Uniqlo-ish. I want a bit of edge.

This store listed measurements for every piece, the prices were reasonable since everything was second-hand, and the quality was often surprisingly good. Once ChatGPT came along, I could paste in a garment’s measurements and check whether it would suit my body before buying. It worked. Almost everything that arrived fit beautifully.

It became my escapism playground: a place to go hunting for stylish pieces that made me feel good.

Trying to break the habit

Needless to say, the clothes piled up fast. I kept donating to make space. I tried reselling. I spent time waiting for parcels, trying things on, clearing out my wardrobe, and starting all over again.

Even though second-hand is meant to be the “economical” choice, it adds up: the money, the hours, the mental space. What bothered me most was realising that the time I spent thinking about clothes could have been time spent with my son, or bettering myself in other ways. And no matter how much I bought, I always felt like I was missing something.

So I decided to work on it. I wanted to stop buying clothes on autopilot, without losing the fun of getting dressed. I built myself a simple habit tracker to help me notice the urge before acting on it, and it has helped. I haven’t stopped completely (I bought something just last week), but the pull feels different now.

The app I almost built: “WearWise”

Somewhere in the middle of all this, I had an idea: a wardrobe app. Something that would help me plan what to wear each day from what I already owned. I loved the idea. Choosing an outfit every morning, from pieces I’d carefully picked, sounded genuinely fun.

But at the same time, I was building Sprouttie, my son’s Chinese learning app. And I was starting to feel tired in a very familiar way.

It felt exactly like having too many clothes.

Too many options. Too many half-loved things competing for my attention. Decision fatigue, just in a different form. I had been trying to fix an “I own too much” problem, and my solution was to make one more thing.

I had to choose what to focus on outside work. Did I want to go deeper on a few things that mattered, like my Mandarin, time with my son, and an app I’m genuinely proud of? Or spread myself thin across more and more projects?

I already knew the answer. I still wanted to enjoy my wardrobe. I just wanted to spend far less time fussing over it.

What I did instead

1. I looked at what I already had.

I put every piece I own onto a single Google Slide. Seeing it all at once was humbling. Most of it sat in the same few colours: navy, denim, black, cream, earthy browns. Most of it was the same few shapes: midi dresses and skirts, wide-leg trousers, a handful of vests and blazers. And far more bags than I needed. I already had a style.

2. I wrote down how I want to feel, not what I want to buy.

At the top of that slide, I wrote:

Clothes that make me love life, make me want to break out in a song and jive, want to jump freely, feel expressive and classy, that bring me from the garden to the bar.

It sounds a little whimsical, but hey, as someone who sees clothes as a way to bring joy to myself, that’s how I want to feel.

That’s my filter now. When I’m tempted, I ask whether a piece does that better than what’s already on the slide. Usually, it doesn’t. I only keep pieces that are good quality and make me feel my best. Unless I really love something, it goes. And I use one simple test: will I wear at least 80% of my clothes regularly? If not, something needs to go before anything new comes in.

When I looked hard at what I owned, I realised there wasn’t anything I explicitly needed.

3. I used what already existed instead of building something new.

A wardrobe app would have been fun to build. But I already had what I needed: the slide, a worksheet I’d made to help me audit my clothes, the one store I already shop at, and the habit tracker I’d built for myself. One more project would only have added to the pile.

What I’m making room for

I still love clothes. I don’t think that’s going away, and I’m not sure it needs to. What’s changed is how much space they take up.

Not building the wardrobe app wasn’t really a decision about clothes. It was a decision about where my attention goes. I’d rather it went to my son, my Mandarin, and better conversations with the people around me, the kind that go beyond logistics. And to the one platform I actually want to spend more time on: Sprouttie, a Chinese learning app for kids (and parents alike).