Thursday, October 23, 2014

Capsule Wardrobe

Some things really irk me far beyond their impact on my life - the way Ira Glass can't pronounce the letter L (you host a radio show, dude, invest in some speech therapy), Kristen Bell's face, confusion about when to use between versus among, blog posts about capsule wardrobes because as someone who wears a uniform 60% of my waking life and about 6 items the remaining 40%, I have nothing but derision for 'look at me! getting by with 33 items per season!'

Honey child, that's not even hard.

(Corollary: Luke and I were talking about how we've figured out at last how to dress the girls. To quote Luke, 'in stretchy things. Things that stretch. No buttons.' The same can be said for myself. I would never, ever buy anything I had to iron).

This fall I've developed a little capsule wardrobe of my own. I recall my sister saying that people only wear 10% of their clothes; I suppose most of us are capsule wardrobe wearers (same 5 pieces all the time) unknowingly or not. My eventual goal is a highly pared-down closet of a very few basic, high quality items. I don't want to think about my clothes everyday -- in essence, I want an off duty uniform because in the same way I don't want to think about dinner these days and massive Sunday meal prep is working great, I don't want to think about what I'm going to wear. Any hesitation means I'm going to wear my stretchy gray maternity t-shirt and either maternity jeans or leggings. I had a baby four months ago. Intervention time.

I put some thought into interchangeable items in a neutral palette plus an itsy bitsy bit of flair as I've been feeling completely invisible (to myself) for a while. Rejoin civilization, I said! Wear some lipstick. Wear some sequin leggings. GET DOWN WITH YOUR BAD SELF*. Like Clementine, what's working for me are things that stretch. And especially no pants! death to pants! but yes to leggings, a longish top, some booties, and a hat. No to heels because 1) the hubz doesn't like them 2) my feet begin to ache and throb in a Pavlovian manner even *looking* at heels.

*even though the only places you go are the grocery story and Target when you're really really lucky

Now for a pretty terrible collage.

YKX & Co bootie // Nordstrom hat, I bought this one // Sam Edelman booties // Lucy Paris sequin leggings // Caslon tunic (purchased in camel) // Stance socks for peekin' out // Armani sheer lipstick // Steve Madden moto boots

These items + pre-existing legging collection + leather jackets and vests I might rummage from the back of the closet + these beauties which I love (can you tell I've been deeply influenced by my military footwear? Once you go flat you don't go back) + as-yet-to-find buffalo plaid item = fall*.

*btw, it's still 85 degrees here

Stretchy + highly walkable + covers the tush. But really anything would be an improvement. Looks like my mom is adopting a similar look:

Anybody developing a workday or weekend uniform? Strategies? Ways to look less mom-ish? Will report back with the results of Operation Stop Looking Like a Before Photo on a Daytime TV Makeover Episode.

1 comment:

  1. I have been using an old trick recently: when I do laundry and am hanging my clean clothes back in the closet, I turn the hanger the opposite direction that I normally would. That way, after a few weeks, it is abundantly clear what items I am wearing and not wearing, and it makes it much easier to choose to donate items. Like you, my dream is to have fewer, but nicer items. I would love to get to the point where I was one-in, one out (only buy a t-shirt if I donate or throw one out, for instance).