 | ...or Why I Didn't Choose my own Clothes until 40. |
| Birth to age 18: When I was a child, my mother sewed all my clothes, and while I appreciated it, I usually felt like a small middle-aged woman. |  |  |
| Age 18-25: I chose my own clothes during my early adult years, but I was a student and didn’t have much money. |  |
| Age 25-40: When I married, my husband’s family owned a garment business and they gave me Hefty bags of floor samples a couple of times a year. Again, I appreciated it, but the clothes usually weren’t my style. I didn’t know what my style was, but brightly colored, loudly patterned knitwear wasn’t it. Then came ten years of pregnancy and nursing while wearing a fetching denim jumper. Also not my style, but my choices were limited. My daughter recently saw an episode of Friends where Phoebe was pregnant, and she was surprised to see Phoebe sporting my identical maternity outfits. She had thought I had bad fashion sense, but realized that maternity clothes before 2000 were just hideous. |  Please tell me you wore this outfit, too. |  That baby is four days old in this picture, but I wore that sweater for years, pregnant or not. |
Age 40-present:
By age 40, my mother had stopped sewing, the family was out of the garment business, and I was finished childbearing. Realizing that my body should not change much for the rest of my life, and that I felt confident some days and shlumpy other days, I started looking for my style. I’m no fashionista and I didn’t want attention, either positive or negative, for my clothing. I just wanted to spend as little time as possible getting dressed, make my outsides match my insides, and comfortably do what I want to do all day long. I was also becoming interested in living a more streamlined life, full of experiences and not possessions, and I wanted my wardrobe to reflect that. My husband suddenly became a source of inspiration for me. He completes his grooming/dressing routine in 10 minutes flat. How could I do that?
Being middle-aged doesn’t help with fashion: there doesn’t seem to be much choice between Sex and the City and the Golden Girls. I’m finished with bikinis, but want to snorkel in a cute one-piece. Stilettoes are over, but I’m not ready for clogs. Skinny jeans still work, but nobody needs to see my plumber’s smile.
I began experimenting. Some days, I’d feel like I had put together a cute outfit, then catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror and feel ridiculous: trying too hard, borderline couger. Other days, I’d see a senior citizen sporting my outfit. That hurt. What to do? I searched the internet, watched What Not to Wear, asked advice of friends and family members who looked comfortable in their skins, and came up with the following plan. (By the way, if you don’t have time or money to enact the whole plan, just do steps 1-5 now, and do 6-7 as you can.)
By age 40, my mother had stopped sewing, the family was out of the garment business, and I was finished childbearing. Realizing that my body should not change much for the rest of my life, and that I felt confident some days and shlumpy other days, I started looking for my style. I’m no fashionista and I didn’t want attention, either positive or negative, for my clothing. I just wanted to spend as little time as possible getting dressed, make my outsides match my insides, and comfortably do what I want to do all day long. I was also becoming interested in living a more streamlined life, full of experiences and not possessions, and I wanted my wardrobe to reflect that. My husband suddenly became a source of inspiration for me. He completes his grooming/dressing routine in 10 minutes flat. How could I do that?
Being middle-aged doesn’t help with fashion: there doesn’t seem to be much choice between Sex and the City and the Golden Girls. I’m finished with bikinis, but want to snorkel in a cute one-piece. Stilettoes are over, but I’m not ready for clogs. Skinny jeans still work, but nobody needs to see my plumber’s smile.
I began experimenting. Some days, I’d feel like I had put together a cute outfit, then catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror and feel ridiculous: trying too hard, borderline couger. Other days, I’d see a senior citizen sporting my outfit. That hurt. What to do? I searched the internet, watched What Not to Wear, asked advice of friends and family members who looked comfortable in their skins, and came up with the following plan. (By the way, if you don’t have time or money to enact the whole plan, just do steps 1-5 now, and do 6-7 as you can.)
| First, I made peace with my body. I have surgery scars, post-breastfeeding boobs, and a saggy tummy. However, this body has brought me through almost five decades of life on this earth pretty smoothly, and my body has battle scars, not defects. Surely there could be some way to clothe this vessel that reflects that. For all of you in transition due to pregnancy, health problems, or a desire to change your weight, if you aren’t where you want to be, then more power to you, and do your best to call a truce with your body while it’s working so hard for you. Revisit this step as you progress. Second, get yourself some good underwear. Go for a bra fitting, and give those girls the respect they deserve. Find panties that work with a majority of your clothing, and match them to your bras. You’ll feel better before you even get dressed. I prefer to keep two skin-colored bras and one black one, with matching panties. If you rock the purple lacy look, I salute you. Third, try on all your clothes and shoes. Yes, all of them. Sort them into five piles: keep, off-season, donate, chuck, and athletic wear. (Note: If you’re on a weight changing journey due to pregnancy, illness, or New Year’s resolutions, make a sixth pile called Later. Box up everything that you hope to wear someday, and try it on when you get ten pounds or so closer to your goal.) I used a vague scale of 1-10, looking for things such as fit, comfort, coverage, appearance, condition of the clothes, and how well it worked with the rest of my wardrobe. I kept everything that was roughly 7 or above on the scale. Having a designated athletic pile will help you avoid the temptation to wear stretchy, unstructured, ultra-casual clothes. If it’s raggedy, stretched, or faded, just chuck it. If you haven’t worn it in a year, or it doesn’t make you feel fabulous, donate it. Put the off-season stuff in storage, and repeat this process when the weather changes. Keep the clothes that make you feel good, look good, and help you do what you want to do. Fourth, now that you have a much smaller wardrobe, put some outfits together. Ask a stylish friend to help--my teenage daughter helped me with this. Plan whole outfits: bottom, top, scarf, jewelry, shoes, layers, the works. Plan for different kinds of days: formal, casual, rainy, etc. Take photos, and wear those outfits until you have tried all of them. Feel free to continue adding to the donate, chuck, and athletic piles. Do this a couple of times, experimenting with different combinations, and see which of your clothes really work for you. Now fifth, take inventory of what you’re keeping. Write it down. Are you happy with it? Can you decide what to wear quickly each morning, and do you feel confident all day? Think about what works for you. Take photos of yourself in great outfits, for future reference. At this stage, I decided that I preferred neutral-colored high-rise jeans and pants, tops that didn’t require a camisole underneath, structured jackets or cardigans, and comfortable but cute shoes. I also decided to forego special underwear and only wear clothes that look good without pain--goodbye, Spanx! (If your clothes fit, you probably won’t need shapewear). Are there any gaps in your wardrobe? What basic items would make your wardrobe more functional? Do you need a great pair of jeans, a black blazer, a neutral skirt? Sixth, go shopping. Have a goal in mind, looking for a couple of items you identified in step five. You can preview stuff online, but go to stores to try things on. Take a friend with fashion sense. Don’t worry about the sizes--if the piece is well-constructed, high-quality, and looks great on you, buy it no matter what the numbers say. If you come up empty, it’s okay! I have about a two-hour shopping limit before I just can’t stand it anymore. Try another day. The mall will still be there. Seventh, incorporate those new items into your wardrobe, and see how it goes. As seasons come and go, or your body changes, you may need to make adjustments. I purchased a couple of items every month until I had rounded out my wardrobe. I now have a pretty small wardrobe, and getting dressed takes just a minute every morning. I usually put on a base layer of a bottom and a top which work for almost every day, then choose shoes and layers that match my activities for the day. |     |
| Stores I like to shop at:
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