It is perhaps the only pure act of masochism that I practice on a regular basis: reading the “What I Wore” column in the New York Times Style section.
Sometimes the subject of the profile is a celebrity I’ve heard of; other times it’s a socialite whom I haven’t; but no matter what, I’m in the dark when they describe their clothing. Only occasionally am I familiar with the designer; sometimes I’m not even familiar with the piece of apparel they name. And oh, do they spend a lot of time changing clothes. An outfit for yoga. An outfit for morning coffee. An outfit for a midmorning meeting and another one for a photo shoot. Then a quick clothes-change for lunch out and another change of clothes before an afternoon meeting. Finally, the Big Three of end-of-day costuming: a cocktail party outfit; a dinner outfit; and a clubbing outfit.
I try to imagine applying this standard to my own life. If I break down what I wear in a typical day, it looks like this: Track pants (which used to belong to Tim’s friend Austin) and a Dare to Stay Off Drugs t-shirt (which used to belong to Tim) for my morning run. Add to that L.L. Bean duck boots and work gloves for when I’m in the barn feeding the cows. Pants and a pullover sweater for workday, which encompasses morning coffee, lunch, meetings and appointments that crop up in the course of the day, and picking up the kids at the bus or after their extracurricular activities. Then, if I’m really lucky and have no evening commitment, sweat pants and a hoodie before starting dinner preparations; that outfit will easily get me through to bedtime.
Yes, in some respects I’m envious of the socialites and celebrities with their lives so fabulous that the clothes merit their own column in the New York Times. There isn’t one aspect of my life interesting enough to make the pages of the New York Times, and these people show up not only for their own endeavors and activities but for the existence of their clothes! But in other respects, I wonder if they might be envious of my approach to dress once in a while. Sure, it must be wonderful to wear Jimmy Choo and Miu Miu and Marc Jacobs and Isabel Marant and Vionnet all within the course of 24 hours. But having your attire reported on in the New York Times must be a lot of pressure too. I wonder if they ever wish they were me, a self-employed writer and homemaker in small-town New England wearing sweats to make dinner.
Most likely not. They didn’t get where they are by dreaming of smaller things, after all. And I’d love to own, or even borrow – okay, even just breathe on – some of those items that hang from their closets. But I also love my purple Gap hoodie and the quiet, low-key evenings it represents to me.
Showing posts with label wardrobe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wardrobe. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Holly culls her wardrobe
Holly went on a clothes-purging spree Sunday night.
On the one hand, this is better for me than a clothes-buying spree, which is more typical of what she usually does if given the opportunity. On the other, I was a little shocked by how many items ended up in the giveaway pile as she tore through her bureau drawers. When she was done, it appeared to me she’d kept about one-third of what she owns and opted to get rid of the other two-thirds.
I have to admit that I could see the method in her madness. As I’ve bemoaned many times over the past year, both in print and to any listening ear, both of my kids now limit their everyday wardrobes to about three or four different items per season. Holly started third grade wearing the same hoodie every single day and insisting that there was nothing unsanitary about it since she changed the t-shirt underneath daily. Much as I struggled to change that habit, it ended up that Mother Nature came to my aid: once we reached late autumn and it was chillier, Holly started wearing long-sleeved shirts and didn’t like the way the hoodie felt over those shirts, so she gave it up. But that only led to the problem that she was rotating among just three or four favorite long-sleeved shirts, and two or three pairs of pants.
Meanwhile, her bureau drawers were stuffed with other items I hoped she’d eventually be tempted by: colors (such as pink) that she claims not to like anymore; styles (such as straight-legged jeans) she says she finds uncomfortable; dresses that she says are too dressy. “My style is stylish but sloppy,” she informed me. “I don’t like clothes that make me look all neat and put together.”
Oh sure, who would ever want to look neat and put together? Well, me, for one. But as I’ve learned more times than I can possibly count over my twelve and a half years of parenting, our children are different people from us. And considering the genetics, who knew that any daughter of mine could ever hope to have any kind of defined style whatsoever – even one defined as “stylish but sloppy”?
Several of the garments Holly put in the discard pile were old favorites that she accurately recognized she’s begun to outgrow, but others were pretty dresses that she just isn’t interested in wearing. And somehow she’s managed to intuit the same closet-weeding rule that many of us have to tell ourselves over and over again: “If I haven’t worn it in the past year, why do you think I’m suddenly going to decide I like it?” she asked me.
Well, because tastes change as you grow up, and you’re growing up really fast, I wanted to tell her. Sure, that floral sundress from Talbot’s Kids might not appeal to you for right now, but starting in fourth grade, you’re going to have to dress up for the semiannual school concerts, and that dress would be perfect.
But at the same time, dresses for young girls really aren’t that expensive, and it will be fun to pick one out together when that time arrives.
In a way, I’m still conflicted. Two of my friends who heard about Holly’s wardrobe purge were impressed. “That's a good thing! Too many choices and options are what cause stress, so narrow it all down to the necessary basics!” my friend Desa said.
And I know she’s right: Holly is executing on a habit that many of us adults are still trying to develop. It’s true that if she needs something she doesn’t have – a concert dress, a pair of pink tights, a white cotton cardigan – I can buy it for her. At the same time, it’s not a very positive message in terms of conservation of resources to approve of her getting rid of things we might just end up replacing.
But the bottom line is that she’s developing a good habit by learning to cut down. “Gotta love a kid who learns the skill of de-cluttering early on. I'm still working on developing that in myself,” my friend Kathleen observed. So I won’t stand in Holly’s way. This morning, I scheduled a pickup from Big Brother Big Sister, which accepts clothing donations. If her tastes change in the near future, we’ll restock her wardrobe. Until then, we’ll just enjoy the sight of neat, almost bare shelves and closet racks, as Holly continues to wear her three or four favorite seasonal outfits.
On the one hand, this is better for me than a clothes-buying spree, which is more typical of what she usually does if given the opportunity. On the other, I was a little shocked by how many items ended up in the giveaway pile as she tore through her bureau drawers. When she was done, it appeared to me she’d kept about one-third of what she owns and opted to get rid of the other two-thirds.
I have to admit that I could see the method in her madness. As I’ve bemoaned many times over the past year, both in print and to any listening ear, both of my kids now limit their everyday wardrobes to about three or four different items per season. Holly started third grade wearing the same hoodie every single day and insisting that there was nothing unsanitary about it since she changed the t-shirt underneath daily. Much as I struggled to change that habit, it ended up that Mother Nature came to my aid: once we reached late autumn and it was chillier, Holly started wearing long-sleeved shirts and didn’t like the way the hoodie felt over those shirts, so she gave it up. But that only led to the problem that she was rotating among just three or four favorite long-sleeved shirts, and two or three pairs of pants.
Meanwhile, her bureau drawers were stuffed with other items I hoped she’d eventually be tempted by: colors (such as pink) that she claims not to like anymore; styles (such as straight-legged jeans) she says she finds uncomfortable; dresses that she says are too dressy. “My style is stylish but sloppy,” she informed me. “I don’t like clothes that make me look all neat and put together.”
Oh sure, who would ever want to look neat and put together? Well, me, for one. But as I’ve learned more times than I can possibly count over my twelve and a half years of parenting, our children are different people from us. And considering the genetics, who knew that any daughter of mine could ever hope to have any kind of defined style whatsoever – even one defined as “stylish but sloppy”?
Several of the garments Holly put in the discard pile were old favorites that she accurately recognized she’s begun to outgrow, but others were pretty dresses that she just isn’t interested in wearing. And somehow she’s managed to intuit the same closet-weeding rule that many of us have to tell ourselves over and over again: “If I haven’t worn it in the past year, why do you think I’m suddenly going to decide I like it?” she asked me.
Well, because tastes change as you grow up, and you’re growing up really fast, I wanted to tell her. Sure, that floral sundress from Talbot’s Kids might not appeal to you for right now, but starting in fourth grade, you’re going to have to dress up for the semiannual school concerts, and that dress would be perfect.
But at the same time, dresses for young girls really aren’t that expensive, and it will be fun to pick one out together when that time arrives.
In a way, I’m still conflicted. Two of my friends who heard about Holly’s wardrobe purge were impressed. “That's a good thing! Too many choices and options are what cause stress, so narrow it all down to the necessary basics!” my friend Desa said.
And I know she’s right: Holly is executing on a habit that many of us adults are still trying to develop. It’s true that if she needs something she doesn’t have – a concert dress, a pair of pink tights, a white cotton cardigan – I can buy it for her. At the same time, it’s not a very positive message in terms of conservation of resources to approve of her getting rid of things we might just end up replacing.
But the bottom line is that she’s developing a good habit by learning to cut down. “Gotta love a kid who learns the skill of de-cluttering early on. I'm still working on developing that in myself,” my friend Kathleen observed. So I won’t stand in Holly’s way. This morning, I scheduled a pickup from Big Brother Big Sister, which accepts clothing donations. If her tastes change in the near future, we’ll restock her wardrobe. Until then, we’ll just enjoy the sight of neat, almost bare shelves and closet racks, as Holly continues to wear her three or four favorite seasonal outfits.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Coveting thy neighbor's Netbook, iPhone and wardrobe
Sometimes it’s hard not to covet, and other times I feel like I go the other extreme and use anti-materialism as an excuse for being negligent or sloppy. Often I’m not sure where the middle ground is.
As far as coveting, I have gadgety tendencies and find it easy to desire those electronics and office accessories that seem to make life easier. I’m the only person I know – well, not the only person, but the only 40-something semi-professional in Carlisle – who doesn’t have a cell phone that can do more than just call people, and I’m the only serious writer I know who doesn’t have a Netbook. One evening last week, I was feeling covetous and fell into a long contemplation on which I would rather have: an iPhone or a Netbook. With a Netbook, I could write and have web access even when I was away from my home office. Currently I have a little Alphasmart, which is a portable word processor that can store a few files and then sync up to my computer. This is enough to enable me to draft documents when I’m away from home; it’s just that the small screen prevents me from doing much revising.
Then I thought about the iPhone. With an iPhone, I could email or look things up on the web from anywhere, though that wouldn’t expand my portable writing options much. I covet both; I couldn’t decide which would help me more in the long run.
But after spending a couple of hours not only thinking about iPhones and Netbooks but even doing some online “window shopping” (screen shopping?), I woke up the next day thinking I didn’t really need either one that much. The fact is, I can write when I’m away from home – whether at Starbucks for the afternoon or on a weekend getaway or even in the car while Rick is driving – on my Alphasmart, and I’m not convinced that having constant portable access to email, Twitter or other internet functions would actually be a good thing for me. Sometimes, walking away from my desktop computer and over to where other activities are going on – such as where the kids are playing, or into the kitchen where I should be preparing dinner – is the most effective way for me to switch my concentration away from work and on to other equally important things. With portable email, I fear I’d be one of those people who Never Stops Checking, and the fact is, I’m not someone who gets constant emails or tweets or instant messages. Maybe having more access to email would only serve to underscore the occasional sense that I’m not in very high demand.
I covet electronics, and I also covet clothes. It seems everything I own right now is at least four years old and doesn’t fit me very well anymore; and yet now that I work from home and hang in not-very-fashion-conscious social circles, I can’t justify to myself the need to buy more clothes, or accessories, or jewelry. So instead I try to affirm the positive value of being minimalist; I tell myself not acquiring a lot is a positive thing; it’s good to be light on one’s feet and not carry a lot of clutter on one’s person or in one’s household.
At the same time, it’s possible to be too minimalist. I feel a certain disdain for people who find it too easy to disregard style, in terms of their clothing or their home. The world is, after all, full of beautiful things for the body and the home; to appreciate them is part of cultivating an aesthetic sense. I admire those people whose beautifully decorated homes reflect not the message that they can afford to buy a lot but that they possess inherent artistic style. It’s easy for me to say “Oh, I’m a minimalist, I do well with clean lines and a lot of open space in my home rather than a lot of knickknacks,” but the reality is that I’m not very good at choosing things for my home, even things that might enhance those clean lines and sunny spaces. Sometimes it seems to me it’s almost too easy to be anti-materialist; it becomes an excuse for not even trying to appreciate things of aesthetic value.
So for today, I’m writing on my portable word processor at the indoor pool while the kids swim, unable to indulge in the distraction of checking email or Twitter. Back home, my bedroom is, at the moment, neat but not overly accessorized. My clothes for today are very plain but clean and undamaged. I’ll just tell myself that I’m doing fine, in my minimalist way, and leave the tabletop candles, the trendy jewelry and the newest seasonal fashions -- along with the latest electronics -- to those who can pull them off in a way that I don’t seem able to do.
As far as coveting, I have gadgety tendencies and find it easy to desire those electronics and office accessories that seem to make life easier. I’m the only person I know – well, not the only person, but the only 40-something semi-professional in Carlisle – who doesn’t have a cell phone that can do more than just call people, and I’m the only serious writer I know who doesn’t have a Netbook. One evening last week, I was feeling covetous and fell into a long contemplation on which I would rather have: an iPhone or a Netbook. With a Netbook, I could write and have web access even when I was away from my home office. Currently I have a little Alphasmart, which is a portable word processor that can store a few files and then sync up to my computer. This is enough to enable me to draft documents when I’m away from home; it’s just that the small screen prevents me from doing much revising.
Then I thought about the iPhone. With an iPhone, I could email or look things up on the web from anywhere, though that wouldn’t expand my portable writing options much. I covet both; I couldn’t decide which would help me more in the long run.
But after spending a couple of hours not only thinking about iPhones and Netbooks but even doing some online “window shopping” (screen shopping?), I woke up the next day thinking I didn’t really need either one that much. The fact is, I can write when I’m away from home – whether at Starbucks for the afternoon or on a weekend getaway or even in the car while Rick is driving – on my Alphasmart, and I’m not convinced that having constant portable access to email, Twitter or other internet functions would actually be a good thing for me. Sometimes, walking away from my desktop computer and over to where other activities are going on – such as where the kids are playing, or into the kitchen where I should be preparing dinner – is the most effective way for me to switch my concentration away from work and on to other equally important things. With portable email, I fear I’d be one of those people who Never Stops Checking, and the fact is, I’m not someone who gets constant emails or tweets or instant messages. Maybe having more access to email would only serve to underscore the occasional sense that I’m not in very high demand.
I covet electronics, and I also covet clothes. It seems everything I own right now is at least four years old and doesn’t fit me very well anymore; and yet now that I work from home and hang in not-very-fashion-conscious social circles, I can’t justify to myself the need to buy more clothes, or accessories, or jewelry. So instead I try to affirm the positive value of being minimalist; I tell myself not acquiring a lot is a positive thing; it’s good to be light on one’s feet and not carry a lot of clutter on one’s person or in one’s household.
At the same time, it’s possible to be too minimalist. I feel a certain disdain for people who find it too easy to disregard style, in terms of their clothing or their home. The world is, after all, full of beautiful things for the body and the home; to appreciate them is part of cultivating an aesthetic sense. I admire those people whose beautifully decorated homes reflect not the message that they can afford to buy a lot but that they possess inherent artistic style. It’s easy for me to say “Oh, I’m a minimalist, I do well with clean lines and a lot of open space in my home rather than a lot of knickknacks,” but the reality is that I’m not very good at choosing things for my home, even things that might enhance those clean lines and sunny spaces. Sometimes it seems to me it’s almost too easy to be anti-materialist; it becomes an excuse for not even trying to appreciate things of aesthetic value.
So for today, I’m writing on my portable word processor at the indoor pool while the kids swim, unable to indulge in the distraction of checking email or Twitter. Back home, my bedroom is, at the moment, neat but not overly accessorized. My clothes for today are very plain but clean and undamaged. I’ll just tell myself that I’m doing fine, in my minimalist way, and leave the tabletop candles, the trendy jewelry and the newest seasonal fashions -- along with the latest electronics -- to those who can pull them off in a way that I don’t seem able to do.
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