I never realised how much of my life I was putting on hold.

So did my mum.

When she died in 2019, I spent a week clearing out her unit in Maitland. At the back of her wardrobe, I found three dresses with the tags still on. A cream blouse, never worn. A pair of navy court shoes, still in the box.

She'd been saving them. For a day that was good enough.

Apparently that day never came.

I sat on her bed and cried. Then I took everything home and got on with things.

I didn't notice I was doing the same.

THE TWO SIDES OF MY WARDROBE

My wardrobe had two sides.

On the left were the clothes I actually wore. Navy, grey, black. Work pants. A cardigan with a hole in the elbow that I told myself nobody could see.

On the right were the good things. A green silk blouse with the tag still on. A dress I'd worn to one wedding. A pair of heels, still in the box, bought for a fortieth I didn't end up going to.

Then came the year we all stayed home I was supposed to retire at the end of March 2020. I stayed until August, because you don't walk out in the middle of a year like that. By spring I'd been living in the same trackpants for months, and I'd stopped noticing. I

That's the thing about disappearing. You don't decide to do it. You stop getting dressed for anyone, and after a while that includes you.

WHAT KATE SAID

One Saturday in September, my daughter Kate went looking for coat hangers and opened my wardrobe instead.

She stood there a long time. Left side. Right side. Left side.

Then she said, very quietly, "Mum. You're saving yourself for good. Like Nan."

I laughed. Then I sat down on the bed and cried for the second time in a year over a wardrobe.

She was right. For thirty years I'd dressed for other people's days. School pick-up. Work. Netball on Saturday mornings. Christmas at the in-laws'. The clothes on the left still fitted. They just didn't fit me any more.

THE GREEN BLOUSE

The next Tuesday I put on the green silk blouse and walked to the shops. Just for milk and bread.

Nothing happened. The teenager on the checkout didn't look twice.

Nobody noticed. I did.

I took the long way home.

KATE

A few weeks in, I noticed a dress hanging on the back of Kate's bedroom door. Tags still on. She said she was keeping it for when she'd got her life sorted out.

So I said it back to her. "Kate. You're saving yourself for good."

WHY WE STARTED TUESDAY BEST

We started this shop because of three wardrobes. Mum's, with the tags still on. Mine, with its two sides. And Kate's, with one dress waiting on the back of a door.

Three women, three generations, all saving ourselves for a good day that kept not coming.

We wanted to make a place for ordinary days. Somewhere you could find something you'd love to wear this week, not keep for one day.

Kate wanted to call it Tuesday Best. I said it sounded like a church frock. "Exactly," she said. "Except you actually wear it."

HOW WE CHOOSE

Everything here has to pass the test we used on my wardrobe: would you wear it on an ordinary Tuesday and feel like yourself?

So you'll find jackets you'll reach for every morning. Dresses that work for lunch with friends and still hold their own at a party. Tops and pants that aren't work tops and work pants. Shoes you can walk to the shops in, and heels if you want them. Some of us do. Bags and earrings that finish an outfit without any fuss.

We don't sort anything by age here. There's no section for " the mature women", and there never will be. We won't tell you what suits your age. You know what suits you. Our job is to make it easy to find.

Nobody gets to decide what's too young for you. Not a shop assistant. Not a voice in your head. Not even your mom.

And we won't pretend everything here is for everyone. Nothing is. If something makes you want to wear it this week, not "one day", that's the one.

ONE LAST THING

Mum never got to wear her good things. You can wear yours this week.

With love,

Leanne & Kate