Why does it take decades to determine our style?
And how our sartorial personality can run deeper than we think.
Sometimes I scroll through Instagram and feel a sense of awe, admiration and—I’ll admit—envy, at the seemingly effortless sense of style and confidence exuded by the stream of influencers flooding my feed—many of them half my age.
Now I’m certainly not naive enough to think that these curated collections aren’t considered. Or, indeed, sponsored. Social media is a beast that must be fed and successful style influencers are in large parts personal brands with each outfit, setting and style choice carefully considered, produced, edited and perfected.
But beyond the online style set, there are also a huge swathe of stylish unicorns who walk amongst us. They’re easy to spot—each possessing that special something and a quiet confidence that is inspiring to watch. I’ve certainly known a few in my time and it’s always a delight to observe their sartorial personality shine through.
However, despite being someone who has always found joy in fashion—and indeed even started her career in the industry many moons ago working as a stylist—I feel as if it’s only in the last few years that I’ve truly sunk, comfortably, into my personal style. As I edge towards 40, I finally feel as though each item in my wardrobe reflects me as a person and I no longer feel the pull towards trends or the internal tug to hang onto pieces in the hopes that maybe one day they will fit me/suit me and/or inspire me once again. Life’s too short for such folly and while it may have taken me the best part of four decades to pin down my sartorial identity—and let go of the corporate garb that no longer reflects my lifestyle—it also feels liberating to know that I can now roll out of bed, throw open my wardrobe and simply get dressed. What a joy.
While I’m not entirely sure where this evolution has stemmed from—and I’m sure that for every woman it differs—for me, motherhood certainly influenced how I felt about my style. Simply put, so much of what I used to wear became entirely impractical virtually overnight. I no longer needed tailored wide leg trousers or cute linen shift dresses. I needed stretchy waistbands, supportive leggings, button-down shirts and singlets that allowed me to pop a boob out with nothing more than a flick of my wrist. Given much of my day now involved milk-soaked muslins, sitting on the floor building blocks or walking behind a pram for hours on end, comfort—rather than style—became my priority.
While there is an endless stream of online satire and countless memes which poke fun at this seriously unfashionable descent into ‘mum life’ and leggings, in her latest book, Holding The Baby, one of my favourite journalists and authors,
fondly termed this postpartum period ‘the tracksuit years’. And never before has a term resonated so deeply with me. Sure, many mums can relate to that feeling of rolling out of bed, eyeballs stinging with exhaustion, to pull on the same pair of dirty leggings that have been worn for eight days straight—but what Frizzell captures so beautifully is the emotion and feeling behind this period. It is not finite. And one day we emerge from our milk-stained tracksuit years and begin the process of redefining our sense of self—as well as our style.
In my experience it has taken nearly four years for me to feel as if I’m finally floating beyond my tracksuit years—and many a wardrobe clear out. Every so often the sudden urge to cull, collate and curate my wardrobe overcomes me and my husband regularly takes delight in this activity, claiming that I forever seem to be ‘clearing out my wardrobe’. In some respects I suppose he’s right. I do love it—and it’s also something I try to do semi-frequently. But despite my best intentions, it’s not always a success.
Only recently have I felt as if my wardrobe is clear of the pieces that no longer serve me or feel good. And funnily enough,
wrote the most wonderful piece this week capturing this very sentiment. She says:My wardrobe is full of feelings. I realised that last week as I began the mother of all wardrobe clear-outs. I swung back the doors and bam! There they were: shame, joy, regret, excitement- the whole emotional gamut, tumbling out of dresses and trousers and tops not worn in years.
We hang onto clothes for years, decades even, when we instinctively know we will never wear them again. And yet, as Farrah explains, our inability to simply toss out these remnants from our past is often because we haven’t yet figured out how our wardrobe makes us feel.
Not how it used to make you feel. Not how you hope it will make you feel. Not even how you hope it will make others feel about you. But how it makes you feel. Now. Right this very moment.
It’s advice that Australian editor, influencer and beauty expert, Leigh Campbell also reinforced in a recent episode of her podcast, Nothing To Wear. When conducting a wardrobe clear out she says that if you’re continually pulling pieces out of your wardrobe and saying ‘not today’—it’s time to ditch it. There’s no point hanging onto clothes that no longer work for you.
Admittedly, this is a skill that has taken me a long time to master. Before my own tracksuit years I remained unsure as to where my life would lead post-kids. I wasn’t sure if I would ever return to a corporate role or if I’d remain working for myself as a freelancer—arguably allowing me to remain in my tracksuit years ad infinitum. But I finally feel like life is settling into a new rhythm—and so is my style.
I may never become one of those stylish unicorns I love to admire from afar or indeed one of the online influencers that I’m forever screenshotting and saving for future inspiration—but I am finally feeling like me. And that, I feel, is a gift to be grateful for.
I can so relate to this!