Don't get me going on army shirts. Why did I need four different shirts/blouses, two different pullovers, a skirt and two different trousers, three different jackets...even two different sorts of shoes to go with the skirts in addition to two different sorts of boots. Utter, total madness.
Mind you, the point came not very far through my career when I worked out that most male personnel hadn't a clue what us girlies should be wearing, which meant packing for short attachments easier.
Ooh, random irrelevant memory of army naughtiness. In barracks, getting ready for formal photo and using an eyebrow pencil to outline the muscle edge down the lower leg before putting tights on, to look fitter.
I don't miss much of my army uniform, although the memories of my combat jacket, ooh, all those lovely pockets. Most women's clothing of any sort has expletive all pockets. The thing I wish I hadn't got rid of, though, wasn't an issue item, it was private purchase, secondhand from a foreign army, I think. A sleeping bag with a really good quality waterproof outer layer, including what I think of as a 'padded hood'. Beautiful. I was mad to get rid of it.