Not another gift guide
The creativity is in the restraint
At the end of October I swapped out my clothes. A biannual ritual known to the dwellers of small spaces and big wardrobes. First went the clothes in my closet. Laying them on my bed, freeing up hangers. I have a limited number of hangers. This is mostly a self-imposed rule that stems from me wanting my hangers to match. They don’t make the exact color I have anymore. Of course I could buy something similar, but I’d rather lean into the restriction. It makes me more precise.
I organized the garments into piles, piles that evolved as I held each piece, considering what to do with it next. Could this be reworked into something for fall? Is it too obviously summer? Do I still like? What if I still like it, but haven’t worn it in years. Can I make the case for keeping it? Then there were the bins I unearthed from under my bed. Three bins of clothes. So many black pants, and wool sweaters—vintage, by way of my family. Good pants, good sweaters, things that I’ve lovingly collected, clothes that have brought me joy, and now, felt. so. tired.
Did I want this stuff? No I did not want it.
The thought annoyed me. Maybe I just needed to look at my clothes with fresh eyes. I tried on a series of very bad outfits. They weren’t even quite outfits, just me pairing tops and bottoms together to see if anything sparked. There was the white peasant top with the brown leather trench, and the beige crochet dress with the blue suede jacket. Wisps of ideas. Everything else felt forced, like I was trying to make it something it wasn’t.
I left, leaving a mess behind, just as my thoughts were started to coagulate. There were appointments to attend. I’d timed my project perfectly to prevent myself from getting into it. I think it’s a procrastination thing.
My apartment stayed like this for days. Piles of clothes. I marinated in the stuff, tinkered away at it, tried on things, thinking maybe I’d feel different. I organized the clothes into use case, grouping my everyday pieces in one closet and the more occasion-specific things in the other. This felt productive. The occasion collection was small. They were mostly my favorite things—sparkly, lacy, velvety, tailored pieces. Clothes for the idea of how I want to dress, fantasy Robyn. I hardly ever wear them because I get so caught up on the shoes. I still haven’t nailed them yet. Maybe if I did, I’d feel different about my wardrobe.
I envisioned a slingback, pointed toe, kitten heel, like the Manolo knockoffs I wore years ago. Sleek, yet walkable. Maybe I should just get the Carolyne? That felt too obvious. I started prowling The RealReal. Finding a pair—maybe the pair!—black slingbacks with a soft rectangular toe and sensible 3” heel for a mere $84, then sitting on them. They might be too big, and I didn’t want to potentially return them, there’s so much waste in that, and would buying something actually solve my problem?
The deeper into November we got, the pricklier I became. Gift guides proliferating, Black Friday ramping up. So much buying—don’t we know what we’re doing? Shopping as a short term salve, creating long term problems in the form of insurmountable waste.
Still, I kept checking the shoes. Thinking about them, annoyed they were taking up so much mental space, but resisting the “add to cart.”
This past Sunday I edited the wardrobe of a friend-of-friend. The pieces we kept were mostly secondhand. They were special, the fabrics better. I styled her in several outfits, the looks revealing themselves as I played with the pieces she wanted to learn how to wear. Shoes were the curve ball. I found myself wanting a specific style, then iterating on the idea, landing on a pair that felt more exciting than if I had the exact shoe in mind. The creativity was in the restraint. It usually is.
The black slingbacks with a soft rectangular toe and sensible 3” heel were gone by Monday. Someone else bought them. I initially felt a loss, then relief. On my way home, I thought of the boots, my tall black boots with the soft rectangular toe. Couldn’t those go with my sparkly, lacy, velvety, tailored things? Perhaps. They might not be the vision I had, but maybe they’d be better.
First off, your writing is spectacular. Second, I feel this whole article. Having a background in Fashion, I always felt I had to look the part, but that was never me. Since high school I have only dressed in black or white (with an occasional color, but very rarely)...I also hate fast fashion and over consumption. In the past decade or so I really try and only shop second hand or in some cases I ask friends for hand-me-downs. I was nervous some would find that tacky, but then said f it and asked anyway (I have gotten some great pieces!)
Anyway, thank you again for your fabulous words and I am positive the boots look killer!
I cycle through this headspace so often whenever a potential purchase worms its way into my consciousness, especially when it's an item being sold online - being able to return to it and obsess over it is terrible. "Creativity in restraint" is a great thought to keep in mind.