It’s been a minute! Hundreds of them really! How are you? Did you have a fun summer? Any travel plans coming up? The last time we spoke, I was fresh from a trip to Toronto, today I’m staring at plane tickets to go back. How much things change and stay the same!
In the course of the past year, there’s been many an opportunity to reconnect with you all. I started a new job in fashion (to the joy of readers who may recall my corporate dress struggles), I took up boxing and observed as my purchases shifted totally to workout wear, and I continued my seemingly-life-long struggle to step out in the world every day in an outfit that perfectly summarized my entire personality.
But instead of any thoughtful analysis of my style and its various iterations and evolutions, I’m reconnecting with everyone here to ask:
why can’t I stop wearing a black sweater and a white top underneath?
It’s maybe one of the simplest combinations of clothing in the world, and I almost feel silly virtually re-introducing myself over it. But something happened to me on the first crispy day this fall. Getting ready to bike down to Prospect Park, faced with a proper chill and an irrational fear of opening my coat closet, I decided to try a simple tank top + sweater layer. More specifically, I decided I wanted to evoke the image of a Fort Greene resident, who works at an art gallery in Tribeca, and always has heirloom tomatoes on her counter (and probably the Loewe tomato candle too) - aka, a Very Chic Woman. Thus, I dragged out an old Everlane crewneck sweater and a thrifted white undershirt, without realizing I’d be sealing my sartorial fate for the foreseeable future.
In the weeks since, I’ve cycled this outfit about every four days. Sure, there’s been minor variations, in swapping the Everlane crew with a vintage mohair golf cardigan, or the white undershirt for a loose grey camisole, but the formula is consistent. I fear I am now facing the conundrum any simple-chic outfit evokes:
have I lost all creative sense by constantly re-wearing the same thing, or have I stumbled upon a perfectly built wheel that requires no reinvention?
Maybe there’s a deeper psychological root here. In times of great distress (presidential races, intensive work environments, oncoming seasonal affective disorder, just to name a few), there’s comfort in the familiar. It’s reliable, it’s safe, it’s known, and there’s no chance of it going wrong. Why stray and risk the discomfort? By the way, this mentality can also apply to your local deli, a chicken soup recipe you found when you were 22, or the prestige show you’ve seen at least a dozen times (Gossip Girl, obviously).
But then I worry, is always wanting to wear the same combination indicative of an inability to think of anything else? Where’s my creativity? Am I lacking the chops for a really REALLY good outfit? Have I become boring? Maybe I was boring all along and that’s why the simplest combination of a sweater and tank top can feel so revelatory for me?
Okay, I need to take a deep breath. It’s not that deep. As much as I love clothes and the stories they can tell, sometimes it’s healthy to focus on their utilitarian purpose. I was cold and I needed layers. Bada-bing bada-boom.
Perhaps I’ll stop questioning the bigger meaning of my desire for this outfit, and simply enjoy the comfort of a classic tried and true combination. Perhaps I’ll continue to spiral over what it says to the world around me to wear the same thing all the time. I’ll let you know how it feels when I put it on tomorrow.