Look, I’m going to finally admit it, I have no clue what I’m doing when it comes to fashion. Home decor, yes, I get it, I have a sense of what I’m accomplishing, plus being artistic and creative are kinda my thing. But clothes, accessories, trying to put an outfit together that doesn’t scream, “I’M UNAWARE OF HOW TO ACCESSORIZE, PEOPLE” is a frustrating challenge.
I’m not saying I don’t know how to dress, but I don’t have a clue when it comes to creating a personal style or knowing how to properly shop for an item. I’m currently residing at the “Does it fit? Good enough.” stage in the path to purchase journey.
Each morning, I do the hair, no problemo, slather on the makeup, easy peasy, then I stroll over to the closet and stand there, looking, searching, utterly confused on what to do. Is that you too? Are you also looking helplessly at your closet waiting for a signal? You don’t feel inspired, you just feel like, “Oh dear, what do I do here? I don’t like anything. Anything!” Usually my mind starts racing with thoughts of “Last time I wore that I felt silly.” “What in the heck was I thinking buying that?” “GAWD, why is this so fricken hard?” I end up haphazardly throwing something on, grabbing some earrings that will go with what I’m wearing, I think. (Do they though? I don’t know!?) I need to find myself a Moda, a fashion Jedi that can show me the ways of the closet.
But until my Moda appears, I will continue to lie in the weeds of fashion confusion and continue to laugh outside (cry inside) at all the odd items of clothing I’ve collected over the years. Call it my bizarro Steal this Look book.
Not bad, not bad, but guess what? This was because my always stylish mother was dressing me and sewing all my little outfits. Aprons were huuuuuge in her sewing repertoire. That hair tho…
This is me in Grade 9, baby, this is me in Grade 9! Sweet jeebus harem pants were the absolute worst, weren’t they? Those damn loose pants chock-full of pleats in the exact spot where you don’t want a chock-full of pleats. I always bought mine at Warehouse One. They were $11.00 a pair. Pretty sure they still sell them and the price hasn’t changed.
I also remember every girl I went to school with wearing some variation of white fringe boots. They held up oh-so well in the winter. And roach clip feathers in your hair were THE hot accessory. They sold them in droves at The Ex.
Docs for school, Birks for play. That sums up the early 90’s quite perfectly for me. And those Club Monaco sweatshirts, or, as my dad called them, Club Morocco (after an old bar on Portage Ave.), were my biggest staple. I had at least five versions.
No look was complete without a Pearl Jam concert tee under a Vedder-style plaid shirt. When it got steamy in the mosh pit, you wrapped that plaid shirt around your waist. Elegant AF. Oh, and those bright green Doc Martens lasted about a minute before I dyed them black.
Ok, so there’s nothing super wrong with all of this, individually. Except for those plastic butterfly hair clips, what were we all thinking?! But mash all those items together and you see a style that has no identity. I stopped reading/buying fashion mags at this point because they always left me feeling inadequate, not only as a dresser, but as a woman. So maybe that’s why the lack of a coherent style.
An aside: That insert photo is a decent capture from late 2009. I can’t find any photos of me in the early aughts depicting my bootcut wearing ways. It was that sweet spot between developing film at an actual store (that was a thing, no, really, it was) and having a camera on your phone (phones didn’t always have a camera, no, I kid you not).
So that’s my daily struggle with that damn closet and trying to find a personal style. I just think we need to call it. We are never ever going to get it together.
P.S. a note about hats
What you don’t see on all my “style” pages are hats. And there’s good reason! My noggin is too big to rock a chapeau. I do try them on in stores, but they very rarely come home with me. Unless it’s a sunhat turned into a witch’s hat with birds.