NB: This post is a bit more self-involved and navel-gazey than usual; you may wish to skip it for something with more substance. Thank you.
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I had a conversation with my dear friend Paul last Monday that helped crystallize quite a few things that had been floating in the brain soup. He writes an amazing blog about fashion throughout history and how our sartorial choices affect, and are affected by, our lives—sociological, biological, and psychological factors all come into play, and are put under the microscope. It’s a fantastic blog, and if you are at all interested in how we choose to show ourselves to the world (and why), then this is the place for you.
Here’s a good starting point—it just so happens to be HIS brief exploration of the ideas behind that conversation:
http://attiresmind.blogspot.com/2014/08/inward-becomes-outward.html?spref=fb
We had been discussing how our choices of attire change with the tides of life—how the inner becomes the outer; for instance, when my marriage ended in 2003, my wardrobe took a radical shift from black into technicolor—I AM HERE! it seemed to say. Bright clear tones such as apple green, aqua and turquoise blue, and yellows, dominated. That phase was short lived, however: as I became a little more settled, I shifted into earth tones—rusts, greens, tans, and browns were my go-to color choices. Too, I chose to wear short tailored skirts, heels, and boots that showed off my legs, pretty silk blouses, cashmere sweaters, dresses, and, as much as possible, a retro style. This was my wardrobe for over ten years.
Then, around mid-2012, another shift began. I can’t pinpoint exactly when it started, just that my choices began moving back into a monochromatic pattern…gray, gray, gray. (OK, maybe a little taupe and black in there.) I’ve been living in jeans (or yoga pants at home) or a maxi-length black skirt I picked up on the cheap, paired with t-shirts or loose, simple cotton tops, again in softer tones of gray, light blue, or white.
I wasn’t even fully aware a shift had occurred until around the time I was packing for New York; NOTHING that was going into the suitcase was an earth tone. No skirts (save the black maxi). No tights, no heels. None of my usual go-tos.
What—? I thought. Black? Gray? How boring. How depressing.
The real wake-up call (and the event that triggered my conversation with Paul) came a week ago: I was in the grocery store in my neighborhood picking up a bottle of wine for a TV night in with a friend. After much deliberation, I’d put on an outfit I’d worn many times before: a light cotton shift in olive green, brown leggings, brown boots, tan cashmere cardigan, and a rust/olive/brown/wine-colored scarf. I’d never felt uncomfortable in this outfit before. But last Saturday, it felt excruciatingly WRONG. Part of it, I now know, had to do with my feelings of not belonging in SF any longer, the pull to find ‘home’, wherever that may be; but, as I wandered the aisles of the Good Life, among all the young, toned, shorts-and-jeans-clad hipsters, I felt like a Yeti.
(I will readily concede that it probably didn’t help that I hadn’t shaved in a week.)
I might as well have been wearing a Lord of the Rings costume, I felt so out of place.
I looked at my closet the next day and realized—none of it FIT anymore. Literally and figuratively. Thanks to perimenopause (and, probably, hypothyroid), ten extra pounds have crept on in the past year, resisting all efforts of extirpation. My clothing, while technically still able to be donned, doesn’t look or feel the same on me as it used to. How much of that is physical, how much psychological? I couldn’t tell you. I think it's very interesting to ask these questions, though, and to keep asking them as our lives shift and change.
Still, my weight shouldn’t have an effect on the choice of color or style. Right?
In our conversation, though, once we connected the dots of my current life, it all made sense.
My shift toward more comfortable, loose, less dramatic clothing started when I made a conscious decision to quit singing full time (a very dramatic, outwardly-oriented career) and become a writer (a solitary, inward-focusing career). As my friend put it, it became less about “Look at ME!” as I became much more home-oriented, and more a reflection of my true—read: introverted—personality. My clothing choices became simpler, more streamlined, and, yes, less costume-y, as my life did.
Too, all the clothing I’m reaching for are clothes that pack well—a sign of my subconscious need to travel light, anticipating my trips to Ojai, New York, and (later this year) Europe, as well as my dream of eventually relocating to Europe permanently.
And, instead of schlubby, I am told, my current look is not boring or depressing, but “elegantly simple”.*
That’s my (current) sartorial story….and I’m sticking with it.
….for now, at least.
RM
*OK, so it was my therapist who told me that, and yes, I PAY her to say nice things to me, so I will take it with a grain of salt.
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