Just because you don't fit into it doesn't mean you shouldn't keep it. Or does it? An online survey conducted by shopping channel QVC revealed that 41% of British women say they are planning to lose weight before wearing their hoarded outfits, 17% keep styles in the hope of a fashion revival and the average woman has 22 garments in her wardrobe she will never wear but absolutely refuses to get rid of. According to the survey, British females waste £1.6 billion on clothes we never wear and, somewhat perversely, we claim that it is the "idea" of wasting money that stops us from clearing our wardrobes.

Jimmy Choo's Tamara Mellon shows off her closet. Scott Pasfield for The Wall Street Journal

I find it hard to take issue with anything the survey unearthed, because I am a closet slut of the worst kind. I've tried to reform, really I have.

In fact, some years ago, Tamara Mellon, chief creative officer and co-founder of Jimmy Choo, confided that her life had been transformed by a woman who organized her wardrobes. Somewhat uncharacteristically, I was persuaded by Mellon that clean, organized closets could change my life too, and I made an appointment with her woman—Elika Gibbs (aka Practical Princess). I wrote about my encounter in a column I was then writing for the Times of London, describing the leggy, energetic Gibbs as a blonde lurcher in a parka and extolling the virtues of her methodology.

Elements of Gibb's theory have remained with me through two trans-Atlantic moves and six different sets of closets. Edicts include throwing away your metal coat hangers, which Gibbs despises, and replacing them with slim, plastic versions. These can be found on Gibbs website, www.practicalprincess.com (pack of 10 from £20), but my vote still goes to the flexible, slim, antislip velvet hangers you can buy in the U.S. (try Amazon or Aldi for similar options here). Gibbs suggests hanging similar colors and items together—not a problem for me, since black jackets predominate, but I do have some dresses too. My fave Gibbs-ism is the rolling and storing of knickers and the folding and stacking of bras (cups together, all facing in the same direction).

But even Gibbs, who is widely renowned as being the best in the business, couldn't reform a hardened CS like me. I wish I could remember the name of another wardrobe wizard who, pre-Gibbs, came and looked at my wardrobe. She had a somewhat more spiritual approach to clothing and storage. "They all carry memories. You have to give them some space," she said, staring askance at my storage methods, which involved squishing together as many garments as possible and stowing the overspill under the bed, which was itself overspilling. "Don't you feel like they are all closing in on you?" she asked. Well yes, actually, I said, she had a point. "This will take a couple of days," she said, warily eying the detritus, "and we'd have to burn candles and drink a lot of fluids." She left shortly afterward looking exhausted, never to return.

Tamara Mellon's closet Scott Pasfield for The Wall Street Journal

I've thought a lot about what she said over the course of the last few years. Whether you agree with the concept of anthropomorphic hot pants, don't you sometimes feel that your wardrobe is either getting to you or getting you down? Don't some clothes have the capacity to make you feel like the proverbial million bucks, while others render you almost incapable of leaving the house? Are there clothes hanging in your wardrobe that you won't wear because of a bad association—a funeral, bad news at work, a disastrous date—never mind bad-hair day? There are days when the mess in my wardrobe makes me want to shoot myself or a tight waistband renders me incapable of rational thought at my desk.

In the U.S., the queen of decluttering is Julie Morgenstern, whose acronym SHED has made her a best-selling author, TV personality and all-round authority on getting rid of trash and re-energizing one's life.

Morgenstern uses SHED—Separate the treasures (What is truly worth hanging on to?); Heave the trash (What's weighing you down?); Embrace your identity from within (Who are you without your stuff?); Drive yourself forward (Which direction connects to your genuine self?)—as a form of matrix to apply to every area of our lives, but she begins by practicing this amateur but rather effective science in our closets. "It's where you start your day and where you end your day," she says. I'll bet that Irish philosopher Edmund Burke, who said that "good order is the foundation of all good things," had a pretty pared-down wardrobe too.

So, in accordance with my own needs and those of at least some of you out there, here are some of the most useful pieces of advice I have gleaned over the years about wardrobe clearance and organization. It isn't the answer, but it might help.

Firstly, are there designer or sentimental pieces hanging in your closet or put away in drawers that you haven't worn for ages but don't want to get rid of? Haul them out, bag them (I like John Lewis's garment covers—pack of two, from £7—and their translucent oblong bags—£9 for two; but I also have some from Ikea). Mark the bag or box with a permanent marker or a regular sticky label, and try to find somewhere else for them. In smart circles, this is called "archiving," which is another way of saying storing them where you can't see them. I have colonized half of one of my son's hanging rails for "archiving" my Chanel jackets, Prada dresses and a couple of dodgy-looking skirts that I can't bring myself to part with. By way of a reward, there are two new fish on their way for his aquarium, to be named Clive and Owen, for obvious reasons.

Tamara Mellon's closet Scott Pasfield for The Wall Street Journal

Next, do the same with your winter wardrobe. This includes coats, heavy sweaters and woolen trousers. Hopefully, though, you, like me, are getting the hang of the new versatility vibe and are buying pieces that, with some layering (or, during the spring, removal of layering), can work for at least two seasons.

Next up: pieces you haven't worn for over two years, designer or no. Make three piles: one is for designer items you haven't worn (sell them on eBay or give them to charity), one is simply for cheap stuff you haven't worn and the other is for pieces you aren't convinced you want to get rid of. This includes shoes and boots. Gibbs recommends bagging the stuff you aren't sure about and storing it to see if you miss it (good idea). Throw away the cheap, worn stuff—don't insult the charity shop sorters with one sock or a gray bra—and then sell the rest or give it away. Don't just dump your clothes at any old shop; you'll feel better if you routinely give to the same place and it's a charity you like.

Another excellent Gibbs-ism is the cleaning of your wardrobe and drawers. She suggests wiping them with a spray like Dettox and feather dusting your handbags regularly. This process is bizarrely satisfying (or maybe it's just me), but not as satisfying as lining your drawers with scented liners (try ScentedHome.co.uk, Crabtree & Evelyn or, best of all, Hermès lavender-scented papers). Now organize what you have. Shoes you aren't going to wear should be boxed up, labeled and put onto unreachable shelves or, better still, into the attic. Label the boxes. On her site, Gibbs sells software (£12) that enables you to photograph the shoes and stick the labels, but that has never worked for me. Hasty organization and many house moves means the wrong shoes end up in the wrong boxes. Clean and place handbags you aren't using in their storage bags (you have no business buying a bag that doesn't come with its own bag unless it is a summer holiday purchase). Display the bags you favor, that way you are more likely to use them. Next, hang all items of the same ilk—dresses, trousers, jackets, tops and skirts—together in color blocks. Fold T-shirts and sweaters in their color blocks, too. I also layer them by weight, with the heaviest at the bottom.

A former assistant of mine (she knows who she is) had a Ziploc-bag fetish. As far as fetishes go, it's a good one to have. Put all of the extra bits and pieces from your drawers that you don't know what to do with—handkerchiefs, belts, ribbons, safety pins, love letters—into Ziplocs. You can even use them to store your knickers. Have a Ziploc on hand when you are swapping handbags—simply tip the detritus from the bottom of your purse into the plastic baggy, and sift through when you have time. The downside of this is that you may, like me, end up with a drawer full of Ziplocs containing Polo mints, Biros, old envelopes and chewing-gum wrappers.

Jeans deserve their own paragraph. In fact, I know women whose denim has its own closet. Here are the brutal rules for jeans: If you think your bum looks big in them, it probably does; if you think the style is too young for you, then it undoubtedly is; if you need to lose a dress size or more to get into them, cast them out. Yes, you can wear ripped jeans if you are over 40, but only with simple cashmere sweaters or well-cut cotton tees and flats. Acid wash? Shame on you. Ten is the maximum of any color—unless, of course, you are Elizabeth Hurley, who single-handedly created an emerging market in tight, white denim, or a man in cricket whites (but that's another story). Fold them any way you want—crotch in or crotch out—but make sure they all sit or hang in the same direction.

With your new cleaned-up, pared-down, more efficient wardrobe, take note of what you have and what's missing. Consider your budget and your lifestyle, and prepare to fill in the gaps. And stay tuned for the next installment.