Maybe I’ve been doing it wrong all these years

Putting my entire wardrobe away every 6 months, to get out an entirely different one from storage, then having to work really damn hard to ‘update’ that wardrobe with the latest trends and fashions now seems like a madcap idea to me.

I have been an advocate of this approach - probably even espoused the benefits to other people and urged them to do it - but no more; I’m starting to think I’ve been doing it wrong for years.

There are a couple of points that I like and some obvious practical points that make sense.

Firstly, winter-weight wool garments are better stored safely in airtight bags throughout the summer to help reduce the chance of moth damage. Secondly, its not much use for me to have shorts on hand in winter, or a massive cashmere scarf in summer, so storing them away ensures that my day-to-day wardrobe visual isn’t cluttered with things I know I’m not going to use. Thirdly, it can give me a bit of fresh perspective on something if I hide it away for a while, and when I ‘rediscover’ it, I often have a fresh take on how to wear it. Lastly, it feels like I’ve gone shopping for ‘free’ when I delve into my stored clothing.

But doing this huge turn around every 6 months of practically everything? Now, that just looks like a wrong-sighted, unnecessary and exhausting task, and its more work than it is gain.

I’m starting to think that I have let myself be totally guided and frankly, hoodwinked, by the constant stream of marketing chatter that has been urging me to keep changing, keep changing, keep changing. Colour palette must change, shapes must change, fabrics must change, sleeves must change, belts must change, heel height must change, necklines must change………but no, they don’t. There are some pretty ‘fixed’ things in my life - the climate where I live, my work, my hobbies, my skin colour, my hair colour, my body shape and weight - and this year, the refinement process has been encouraging me to let my personal aesthetic style be a little more fixed too, and have confidence in that. I of course do, and will evolve, but that happens much more slowly than every 6 months.

I’ve tried a bit of a transeasonal wardrobe this year - pieces that try to be worn throughout the year - but I don’t think that’s necessarily where I’m going either. There are some items I will only wear in certain weather and my personal style is not one that tends towards layering, so think I will continue to store some pieces away in the off-season. I also want to have points of difference throughout the year.

I’m starting to think that my storing and unpacking should be a more natural instinctive flow, with no set schedule.

I almost feel relief at realising this, like a weight has been lifted. I feel relieved of both the stress of trying to keep coming up with a ‘new 6-month me’ and also relieved of the time commitment to dedicate to it.

Style refinement is…

• Recognising my unique set of needs and priorities, and developing a similarly unique style that matches

• Building on what exists, focusing on small changes and adjustments; not starting from scratch, not always thinking that a grand overhaul is necessary

• Being precise, not ball-park

• Looking at the details. Understanding the little details that I really like; understanding the little details that I really dislike

• Being in-tune with my intuition

• Protecting myself from too much external influence

• Developing knowledge of different fabric types - knowing the ones I like to wear and the ones I don’t

• Knowing precisely which colours both flatter me and totally float my boat; not wasting time or money on colours I neither like nor can wear easily nor really fit in with other items in my wardrobe

• Learning the right way to make up my face to the most pleasing and flattering effect; not just blindly following the basic advice that gets thrown at me that doesn’t account for the uniqueness of my face

• Understanding, appreciating and working with my body shape when dressing; not ignoring it, not pretending it is something different, not despising it

• Knowing which accessory types I like to use; not bothering to buy the ones I don’t

• Only having makeup in precisely the right shades and right finishes

• Having a wardrobe made up only of clothes that fit; not keeping clothes that fit poorly, no matter how cheap or expensive or cool they may be

• Having enough footwear, clothes and outfits that are suitable for the climate where I live (not necessarily adhering to what the fashion industry proposes is ‘for x season’)

• Assessing whether a potential purchase meets my unique set of criteria and not keeping anything that doesn’t

• Spotting the little changes I need to make to an item to perfectly suit my figure, tastes and uses

• Putting in the effort ahead of time to make day-to-day styling more effortless

• Continually evolving my style to meet my needs, and recognising that my evolution happens on an entirely different timescale from the fashion industry’s idea of ‘seasons’

• Happily decluttering anything that is no longer useful or attractive to me

• Being able to shop easily with a laser-focus for the pieces that match my priorities; not getting distracted by the new, the trendy or the things that look good on someone else

• Having some sense of cohesion in my wardrobe; not having ‘lone wolf’ items that don’t go with anything else I own

• Being able to assess a piece’s value to me, not just its cost (cost is what you pay; value is what you get)

• Owning a collection that works for me, and only me

• Finding daily joy in getting dressed and using what I have chosen to keep

Can I call myself a minimalist?

What is a minimalist anyway?

I feel like the minimalism movement is closely linked, visually at least, with a single recognisable aesthetic of neutral tones, clean lines, limited print and colour, devoid of non-functional decoration. The aesthetic is quite spare and white seems very important. The modern 2020 minimalist seems to take pride in living with bare essentials and owning quite a small quantity of any one item with little to no excess contingency.

I reckon anyone would look at my wardrobe or my home, and while I don’t think it is cluttered, it’s certainly not quiet. I love colour, print, and I do own more than one of some things, a few knick-knacks, and several things I only use infrequently, which, to the ‘minimalist’, might be construed as missing the point? I can’t imagine myself in a white-walled home with very little art on the walls, wearing crisp white cotton or a basic tee and impeccably tailored jeans with no makeup. I can’t imagine myself not wanting to buy and own jewellery. I can’t imagine giving up my full-suspension mountain bike because I only use it about 5 times a year.

Despite this disconnect, I still want to call myself a minimalist, purely on the basis that I feel like I’m minimising my ownership of physical objects, and I’m changing my decision-making process when I do buy physical objects. I’m striving not to own for the sake of owning, striving to re-engineer my thinking and to ignore the cultural practices of consumerism that have taught me to love the buzz of buying new and to use the ownership of things as an indication of my success. I am genuinely enjoying the process of minimising and of refining my choices to match closely with my personal values, tastes and objectives.

So, can I call myself a minimalist?

Just through writing this post, I’m realising that I am making the same judgments about my own journey as I fear others might make about it too. Like I’m not worthy of the title minimalist until I’ve reached the goals of white walls, clean wooden floors, a wardrobe that could fit into a carry-on case and one bar of soap that cleans my kitchen, laundry and hair.

I am reminded that this has to be a personal journey that shouldn’t be judged, neither by yourself nor anyone else. Your goals or ideals do not need to match the visual chatter and distraction of aspirational and inspirational imagery.

The trick is to hear and identify ourselves amidst all that noise and so we can define goals and follow paths we see for ourselves. Forget the tribe and the formula. There is no objective, and even if there was, your personal circumstances and objectives might change a year from now - that’s OK too. This is what refinement is to me - paying attention to myself, honouring my unique set of needs, circumstances, tastes and desires and stripping away or ignoring anything that doesn’t speak to that. This process seems, quite naturally, to result in minimising what I do do and do own, to be able to focus on just a few really important things but I’m reminding myself that that doesn’t have to lead to owning a set quantity of anything and minimalism can be a fluid definition that can just mean what it means to me. Like love.

Maybe I am a minimalist or maybe I shouldn’t bother with the epithet. Maybe the naming of this thing is just the easy way out to try and define myself, to try and see where this is going when instead, I should just enjoy the ride.