Kate Stanton: I knew those yellow flares would be in style again

I've just had to squeeze several homes' worth of stuff into one. Not just the essentials of modern life, but all the bits and pieces I've squirrelled away in a number of lofts over the years.

I also have a lot of relatives whose lofts I've been using to store the stuff I don't quite have room for.

Life as a hoarder is tough, make no mistake. I'm not as extreme as the ones you see on TV: I can still walk around my house without risk of drowning in a sea of junk piled perilously high in each room.

But I do hate to get rid of stuff I might want again one day. I admit, it's mostly clothes and accessories, but when you're into the vintage look – I've often been described as a throwback – you need a fashion archive.

What's cool and retro today will be past-it-retro by the end of next week. Five years down the line, the whole trend cycle will begin again. Then it's on – or back – to the next phase – floaty-hippie; rockabilly; 1980s secretary… the possibilities are endless.

I was once heckled by passing traffic as I walked to the pub in bright yellow nylon flares. And I've given people a lot of laughter with some of my more hideous sweaters.

Occasionally, I've even caused a pensioner's eye to mist over as an old frock of mine casts her back to the first dance her late husband Albert took her to. It's a public service I'm performing, in many ways.

I guess part of the trouble though is whereas, a few years ago I was wearing at least some of these clothes regularly, these days I've become a lot lazier in my sartorial choices. I'm turning into a creature of comfort who would rather keep warm and wear shoes that don't do me lasting damage, than dress to impress/incite heckling.

It's a shame when I look at all the outfits I've collected over the years, languishing in my current attic. I could sell them I suppose, but how could I be sure their next owner would appreciate them and treat them well?

I couldn't bear to think of them unloved or worn to a bad taste costume party. Still, they're not getting much use while stuck in my dusty loft either. And there's a thin line between comfort and frumpiness. I loved Hayley Cropper as much as everyone else, but a style icon she was not.

So in the interests of not letting these heritage treasures go to waste, and revamping my personal style, I really should start making an effort to incorporate them into my daily wardrobe again.

To the horror of my poor boyfriend who has to live in what often resembles an abandoned fancy dress shop, I shall be pulling out some of my best finds from the loft, the back of the wardrobe and under the bed. I'll attempt to revive all those old charity shop bargains, flea market finds and jumble sale gems and make them part of my everyday life once more.

This is why I can't get rid of anything, because I know there will come a time when I want to wear a long-forgotten garment once more. It may mean my ceiling heaving at the weight of endangered costumes stored in the attic and my boyfriend not ever having enough wardrobe space, but at least I'll never be short of something to wear. Whether it still fits is quite another matter, but let's not fuss over details right now.

So if you see a young(ish) woman dressed like a mash-up of every decade from the last century wandering about town: feel free to heckle. But know this: my hoarding was not in vain and I refuse to regret a single thread.