The change of seasons always causes a bit of a shuffle, especially if you live far enough north where the climate turns along with the seasons. The first frost hit here last week, and I began reaching for sweaters. Time to do my autumn wardrobe switch.
Calling it the autumn wardrobe switch is almost laughable, as the only winter clothes that were in the off-season vintage suitcase when I opened the lid were five sweaters. Everything else had stayed put right where it had been since last winter - in my drawers and closet. This is the beauty of having a small wardrobe, I suppose. Switch out a couple sundresses, strappy tops, and capris for a handful of sweaters, and you're done. Include a total drawer and closet purge and straighten, and the entire process takes maybe twenty minutes (my kind of project). And when I stood back to savor the satisfaction of having tidy drawers and a loosely-filled closet, it wasn't hard to note that I have fewer clothes now than I've ever had.
Earlier this year, I decided to embark on a mission of only having clothing that I love to wear. Inspired by the notion that we all seem to gravitate to those favorite jeans and that favorite shirt over & over, no matter how many options are hanging in front of us, I wondered if this could apply to every piece I owned. I'm only a few months in, and it's going to take some time to arrive, but I love where it's taking me - or more aptly - where it's taking my wardrobe. It feels good. It feels honest and fitting, like my wardrobe is becoming a concise description of me.
As it's turned out, I've purged more than I've replaced so far. I've taken stock of what I love, how I wear it, how often I wear it, and do I really need to buy x, y, or z? In the mean time, I'm scouting options and sources for those wardrobe pieces that I do want to acquire when the time is right. It's window shopping at its best. Among the inspired are: handmade, responsibly made, natural when possible, and well-tailored. Slow fashion, indeed.
More wardrobe reading: