WearStreakA small log for the clothes you already own.
WearStreak counts wears and washes. The counting takes seconds, and the count gives you some insights, like cost per wear.
The hoodies that started this.
I have a healthy hoodie addiction, and I cycle through them. They are almost always just worn for short periods around the house. Not sweaty. Not dirty. But not totally fresh either.
Washing a hoodie roughs it up a little each time. The cuffs stretch, the print cracks, the outside pills. Doing it more than necessary just gets you there faster.
I didn't want to overwash them, but I also had no way to know how many times I'd worn each one.
So I started keeping count.
You probably have one.
Most people I asked had some version of the chair. Sometimes it is a bench. Sometimes the treadmill in the spare bedroom. A pile of clothes that are worn but not dirty enough to put in the laundry. The chair grows because there is nowhere else to put a worn once, still good item.
The chair is a storage problem, but underneath it is a counting problem. If you knew an item had two wears on it, you would either wear it once more or wash it. The chair only exists in the gap where the count is unknown.
This app closes that gap. It makes the count visible, so you can stop using the chair as a memory aid.
Light wear days add up.
If you work from home, you wear your clothes lightly. A shirt for a video call. A sweater that comes off once the room warms up. Sweatpants until you change to go out. By evening half of it is in the comfies pile and the rest is on the chair.
The trouble is that light wears feel like they barely happened, so they slip out of your memory entirely. You guess. You usually overwash, because guessing wrong toward wash it feels safer.
A tap fixes the guess. Every wear is one tap, the same tap, no matter how short. Three taps is three wears, not “I don't know, maybe four.”
Then I added the prices.
Once I was already counting wears, I started typing in what I had paid. Price divided by wears, and every item had a cost per wear.
The numbers were eye-opening. The expensive jacket I kept saving for the right day was costing me a fortune per wear. The cheap hoodie I live in had become the best money I have spent.
Nothing tells me to buy less or wear more. The number just drops a little every time I wear something. It felt good to see the true value of my clothes.
The whole app in one paragraph.
You add the things you want to track. When you put something on, tap wear. The count goes up. When you wash it, tap wash. The count resets. After a week or two you can see what is close to needing a wash and what still has wears in it. Add what you paid for something and you get its cost per wear too.
One thing, on purpose.
Despite the name, the streak refers to your clothes, not to you. The discipline of not adding more is what keeps the app a few seconds a day instead of a chore. Wear, wash, count. That is the design.
What it takes.
A couple of taps when you change clothes, a couple more when you start a load of laundry. A few seconds, not zero, and you have to do it for a couple of weeks before the data starts to mean anything. If that sounds worth it to know the count instead of holding it in your head, you will probably like this.