It’s that time of the year again.

No, I’m not talking about the time we start rolling our eyes at how early Christmas decorations are out, or the time we think about what suit or dress we’re going to wear to the Melbourne Cup (and which one is the most grass-, champagne-, drunken-bodily-fluids-of-late-afternoon-emission-stain resistant). I’m talking about the time of year we emerge from our wintery cocoon and cast off the soft and hard protective shells that have kept us warm. It’s Spring and it’s a great season for cleaning out all kinds of stuff, especially out-of-fashion wardrobes.

This is the time to start anew.

To make way for a new wardrobe you’ve got to make some space and the only way to do that is to let go of things you don’t need anymore. Whether it’s that pair of broken heeled Jimmy Choo’s you stumbled home from last year’s Cup in or, as in my case (and like many who haven’t lived in Melbourne all their lives and have never been to Flemington for the big race day), a ‘vintage’ safari-suit picked up for a bargain at a trendy Op-shop, some stuff simply needs to go.

Now, as much as I might procrastinate about it, when I do finally get around to chucking out clothes I haven’t worn in years it feels great. There’s nothing like taking a big bag of old socks, slogan-T-Shirts and tracky-dacks (‘sweatpants’—for American visitors to this blog) down to the local clothes bin and giving them away for good. Then you can go shopping safe in the knowledge there’s plenty of room in the wardrobe for whatever takes your fancy.

To make way for the new you’ve got to get rid of the old.

In the Simple Salon office this morning, and after spending the whole weekend with my head in the closet debating about what fashions were about to make a return (and deciding I could probably let go of that old safari suit), I was sharing aloud about my seasonal obsession with efficient use of space when one of the tech guys in our office piped up saying how it’s just like what we do at Simple Salon.

“Really?” I enquired disbelievingly. “We hoard jeans that don’t fit us anymore then spontaneously give them all away to The Salvation Army?” My co-worker, one of our technical specialists (read ‘propeller heads’) who, without wishing to offend anyone and for the sake of this post I’ll simply call ‘Weenie’, spun in his swivel chair and stared at me blankly.

“No, Oz—I was speaking metaphorically. Us computer geeks aren’t always literal you know. Even if most of us prefer working with numbers and bits and bytes you’re not the only one who likes to play with words too.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you with my facetiousness. What did you mean?” Weenie looked at me suspiciously before pushing away from his desk and scooting his ergonomically superior chair over by my side.

“It’s like this,” he said excitedly. “You know the way we used to have to put an application or program onto each of our computers, with CD’s and codes and lots of mucking about, then update it whenever there was the slightest change to that program—and how that took a lot of time and effort and still you could never be sure every computer in the office had the latest version of the software?”

“Yes,” I answered simply, not wanting to upset Weenie or derail his enthusiastic explanation about how Simple Salon is like a spring-clean for hairdressing salons.

“Well, that’s what we’ve done by using cloud technology for Simple Salon. Instead of clogging up everyone’s computer with quickly out of date and obsolete programs all that users of Simple Salon need is an internet connection. Then from any computer, smart phone or tablet anyone can use our ‘program’ knowing they are using the latest and most efficent version. Because we are a cloud based service, there’s no need for clients to worry since whenever we do an update it is immediately available to every single Simple Salon user. They are always using the latest version.”

“So,” I said nodding my head and getting carried along by Weenie’s somewhat manic energy, “you mean because the application is hosted on servers outside of the salon, and we make sure that application is always running the latest version, our clients don’t have to worry about ever updating anything? They’re always up with the latest fashion?”

“Exactly,” said Weenie, “that’s what ‘cloud’ technology is.” Weenie struggled to hide his now exasperated tone. Derr. “It’s a simple, more efficient and cleaner way to work. What’s more, unlike when you have a program loaded and running on a computer, you don’t have any danger of losing your crucial files should there by a fire or theft or anything else that would otherwise cause you to lose everything.”

By now I was pretty sure I knew what Weenie was going on about.

“It’s like if I kept all my clothes in a bomb-shelter in a high-security storage facility instead of my house,” I offered. “Whatever happens to my wardrobe at home, all my highly fashionable clothing items kept outside my home will be safe from damage.”

Weenie looked at me as if I was an impossible to comprehend newly discovered life-form.

“We don’t make bomb-shelters, Oz. We make secure, cloud-based software to help hairdressers manage and grow their business in the most efficient and fun way possible.”

“Right,” I said. “I think I get it.” Weenie shrugged his shoulders as if he was past caring whether I understood or not—he’d done his best to explain. As he got back to work defraging his hard-drive (not a sexual act—though his moans and groans indicated otherwise) I had one more question for old Weenie.

“By the way,” I said. “Would you be interested in a collector’s item I’m giving away.”

“Sure,” said Weenie without looking up from his Motherboard mistress. “What is it?”

I smiled, happy now in my understanding of our ‘cloud’ based product as ‘software as a service’ and also how I had a half empty wardrobe at home waiting to be filled with brand new clothes.

“A safari suit,” I said. “Think of it as an early Christmas present from me to you.”

Weenie stopped working.

“Wow! A safari suit. Thanks, Oz.”

“No Weenie—thank you. Thanks Weenie.”