How to wash cashmere, banish moths and care for your clothes

When it comes to looking after my clothes and accessories, I’m an alpha anorak (freshly laundered, naturally). Nothing was more thrilling to my seven-year-old self than polishing my patent Pilgrim shoes – with whatever you polished patent with in the 1960s (something highly toxic, presumably) –until I could see my dimples.

Is this weird? Don’t answer.

Cleaning, glossing and endlessly rearranging my sartorial possessions suffuses me with a profound calm, which is odd, because cleaning, glossing and rearranging anything else, apart from my desk (you should see my pots of colour- coordinated Stabilos), seems like a hell of a lot of effort.

My nascent Marie Kondo passion for order used to be one of my secrets. Shoe trees, lavender sachets, ingeniously fiendish moth traps, laundry starch (try Lakeland), storing handbags in their cloth covers – these do not speak of a devil-may-care attitude.

I was faintly concerned about my hanger obsession too – later resolved. Oh, and  by my ability to spend hours comparing conditioners and protectors, shoe creams and saddle soaps (Penelope Chilvers for the latter, every time).

Hah! Turns out that being OCD about sock- storage solutions (those dividers from total wardrobecare.co.uk) is very zeitgeisty. Nurturing the contents of your wardrobe is the best way to ensure their longevity, which is better for the environment (so is not buying anything, but let’s be realistic: this is a Fashion Issue).

It also ensures your clothes look much better while they’re in service. Shoes? I take them box-fresh to the menders to get the tips rubberised to protect the toes, and always keep up with heel maintenance. When my peers on the frow were studiously scuffing up their ankle boots because it was  A Look, I… well, I couldn’t do it. Obvs.

Coats? I have many, all well-preserved, including one sheepskin that’s at least 10 years old and still  a showstopper. Admittedly not much can go wrong with sheepskin, other than moths, on which  subject more – much more – anon. But you still need to hang it right.

BAG IT

Like my colleague and fellow anorak Carolyn Asome, I regularly weed my crop – you need to be able to see everything in your wardrobe to avoid the dreaded 60-per-cent-unworn statistic.

We’re constantly emailing each other pictures of clothes we  either want to buy or get rid of.  It’s incredibly useful to have someone you trust to bounce off. I sell on the good stuff, take the high street and older items to charity shops, and cut up the rest for shoe-cleaning duty. Good job I love polishing.

Keeping shoes and boots sweet

Two words: shoe trees. These increase the life of shoe and boots – and preserve their shape. I have one sturdy wooden pair for stretching the rare (ahem) pair I’ve bought too small. For the rest, I use foam. It’s light, relatively inexpensive and absorbs sweat nicely. You can even handwash them if  necessary. (To keep my case light, when travelling  I just use tissue paper or socks).

For boots, I add a leg-tree insert. Apart from anything else, it stops them toppling over in the wardrobe. It also restores them when they’ve been a little, erm, stretched over your calves. John Lewis is your happy place for all the above.

As for shoe polish? I prefer creamier consistencies such as Wren’s Leather Cream Classic (£4.49, Amazon), which is easy to spread, buffs to a military shine and feels nourishing.

(Leather is prone to the same drying-out process as your skin, which is why, when I’m travelling, I have been known to treat my most precious shoes, particularly patent ones, to moisturiser. I’m  talking about hotel-bathroom lotions, not my Alexandra Soveral balms.) 

Take shoes to be reheeled and soled before they’re beyond saving. Get to know your local (convenience is key when it comes to implementing any good habit) cleaners and menders, although if a heel gets a tear in it, it’s worth travelling to a specialist. Johnsons (johnsoncleaners.com) gets high approval ratings from the fashion set.

For Louboutin wearers, red-soles.co.uk will keep the undercarriage as flawless as Christian would wish, even selling kits you can use at home. Extreme points? I’ve given up on them. They invariably get that pecked-at look the first time you wear them, after which, they are dead to me.

Suede whispering

First things first, I never buy suede shoes. It’s not just the rain. Suede has a habit of fading. Actually,  I do have fringed suede Prada sandals. They’re fab, but there’s not much to them – ergo, little to destroy.

I’m also partial to the odd suede jacket (not trousers, which stretch too easily and are a pain to clean) and love the occasional suede bag, but it has to be a style that looks good when it’s a bit bashed. Cheap suede is hopeless. Nubuck is far more robust. 

Boot-and-bag supremo Penelope Chilvers recommends using a crêpe rubber to remove marks – gently. I spray all my suede and nubuck with protector. Environmentally, this is quite problematic. Nikwax (nikwax.com) is  the least worst option. Do it rarely and walk everywhere that day  to offset.

Hanging your clothes

You wouldn’t just chuck pictures on a wall. Same with Erdem (or Mango). After years of search and rescue, I recommend those skinny, non-slip rubberised hangers – they take up far less space than wooden or silk ones, and don’t leave nasty dents in shoulders.

I bought mine in instalments from Total Wardrobe Care – there’s a range, with clips for trousers (£13.50 for four) or without (£12) – but the white ones (£18 for 10) on theorganisedhome.com are less expensive and objects of beauty, in my opinion.

Don’t be tempted to overfill cupboards or everything will crease. All my hangers face the same way, and everything is grouped into category.

Wardrobe doors are essential. Light will fade colour. Coats are in a separate closet, so come summer I can forget about them (after having them dry-cleaned, etc). Other than those, and heavier knitwear, I don’t switch my wardrobe around between seasons as I tend to wear layers all year round. 

Holiday clothes are kept in simple white-cotton storage  bags (£20 for one, thewhite company.com), with lavender sachets. Out of sight, out of mind. Every time I open them it’s like having a new set of clothes – almost – and I’m able to approach the weeding objectively.

Each section in my wardrobe is graded by colour. I keep navy and black apart so that on dark winter mornings I don’t mistake one for the other.

Murdering moths

Our most recent infestation of moths, induced,  I reckon, by my younger daughter’s habit – since banned – of buying second-hand clothes by the kilo in Brick Lane, culminated in some expensive and time-consuming professional heat treatment. Try not to let it get to that.

All my knitwear is now stored flat, with lavender or cedar sachets, in ziplock bags. Sprays? I’ve caused so much insect carnage I’ve felt like Martin Sheen going into ’Nam. The best, albeit ruthless, deterrents are those sticky traps from Entopest (£14.99, Amazon).

They only attract the male, but if my biology serves me correctly, without the male, the female cannot produce. Keeping clothes pristine helps (they like sweat). But a moth hunter’s work is never done.

Coddling cashmere

When washing cashmere, add a few drops of vinegar to soften the water. Fashion stylist Deborah Brett washes hers in cool water with a little Woolite and lets it soak: no wringing or rubbing. ‘I have circular drying discs from Lakeland that are covered in mesh. Perfect for drying your sweater over, so it doesn’t lose shape.’

Like me, Deborah folds knitwear to avoid stretching it. Don’t make piles more than three deep or they’ll crease. She also makes her own lavender pouches from Liberty prints. Which makes me seem like an amateur.

MAKE LINGERIE LAST

To debobble, use a manual comb rather than the battery-operated one I got so excited about once. Devastation.

Love Cashmere (cashmere careservice.co.uk) in Hawick, Scotland, offers a complete repair service from £29 for all knitwear made from either cashmere  or lambswool.

Out, damned spot!

Oh, the deep rabbit holes I have tumbled down in my search for the ultimate Biro remover, including one dark afternoon of the soul that took me to Mumsnet. To get pen out of leather, tread cautiously.

First, try the creams. If the mark’s stubborn, a little hairspray or a drop of nail-varnish remover is the kill or cure option. For the love of God, first try this on a teeny, unseen patch. To avoid in the first place, only carry pencils in your best bags, or keep pens in your make-up bag. Spray suede linings with protector.

When washing whites – I do them on as low a temperature as possible and use the recommended doses of Ecover or Method – using more ultimately destroys your machine. If they’re looking dingy, try Dr Beckmann Glowhite (£1.89, dr-beckmann.co.uk).

Re: stain removal, I’m totally outclassed by Lara Sinclair, head of UK press for Jimmy Choo and a mother of two young boys, who keeps at least half  a dozen Dr Beckmann specific stain removers (mud, grass and make-up; curries; tea and red wine; ink; grease; etc) on hand so she can attack the offence immediately.

Lara also turns jeans and logoed T-shirts inside out to protect colour, and regularly runs her machine empty, with malt vinegar/water/crystals wash to clean it. She hangs as much as possible to avoid tumble-drying, which is tough on clothes and the environment.

If you have space, you can dry most things naturally on a Sheila Maid initially, before a blast in the tumble-dryer to soften towels. In winter I love my heated tower dryer (£109.99, Lakeland)

And finally... How to tackle your daughters’ ‘borrowing’

I’m so flattered if they want to wear my clothes that, now that they’re in their 20s, I don’t mind letting them, provided they ask, and return them the next day. I trust them to follow due diligence (they’ve had enough training, after all). That said, my shoes are out of bounds – the girls are so heavy on their footwear. Luckily, none of us is the same size. 

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