I could be wrong, but I don’t think I’m the only one. Give me a rainy Sunday with a playlist, a cup of hot tea, boys who are completely occupied with making funnel cakes in the kitchen, a master bedroom closet and a few drawers to purge and straighten, and I’d say life might just be perfect. It’s something like therapeutic non-work where you aren’t pushed around by time constraints, where you can, in fact, waste it if you want, following every rabbit trail idea that pops into your head regarding the task at hand. Impromptu internet searches for a scarf hanger, zip clogs, t-shirts, bralettes that actually fit, socks, and cashmere sweaters are not only welcome but thoroughly enjoyed. And, you can sing Stand By Me, loudly, while doing so, if you’d like.
You can pull your entire wardrobe out of drawers, bins, and closet, spread it out on the bed and stare at it while wearing your 3” black suede pumps. You can decide then and there to end all fights currently happening between you and your clothes. (The five-year battle with those three pair of running shorts? Over. Give them away already, even though that means you’ll only have one pair left.) You can have an epiphany and rescue that white linen shirt back out of the purge pile, because, really, it shouldn’t be there, after all. You just needed a reminder of how to wear it.
In the middle of all this purging, you might realize that your entire remaining wardrobe may well fit into a single large suitcase. But, thankfully, that’s not a box you want to crawl into. Nor is counting and publishing how many garments you own. Deeper than that, and much more meaningful, it seems, is finding the sweet spot in your sartorial expression and simplicity, owning it and living it, whatever quantity of garments that may be.
To begin, give yourself permission to have a beautiful wardrobe. Go ahead. Give yourself permission to have a beautiful wardrobe. Not one of misfits that happened to you as a result of good deals and crazy sales, but one that’s created and curated with thought and intention, one that thrills you to see it, to wear it, and to care for it. (Speaking of, embrace the lightbulb moment and put the sweater brush and comb into the drawer, right beside the folded sweaters.)
It’ll be exciting, then, to begin a List of Missing Pieces. A master plan, of sorts, to guide you in acquiring needed garments that will compliment your existing wardrobe. Need socks? Write them down. A few t-shirts for layering? There you go. Add a skirt or two? Alrighty, then. Maybe a dress? Sure. Go ahead and include dreamiest dreams, too. You never know.
The point, after the last item is listed, after the last garment is hung, after the last shoe is in its dust bag, is that you have a simple wardrobe, both real and imagined, that is beautiful, curated, tailored, you.