Last week I had one of those deeply embarrassing moments where I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and realized I looked horrific. I was getting dressed for work in a hurry and had pulled the first item I felt like off my closet rod – which happened to be a black blazer. I didn’t look at myself in the full-length mirror until I was already in the elevator on my way to work.
By then it was too late. I stared at the horribly inaccurate elevator mirrors and tried to will myself thinner and younger. But no luck.
I looked … sad. Besides being wrinkled in that won’t-ever-get-fully-ironed-out way, my blazer had super-short sleeves – were they always that short? – wonky shoulders that almost-but-not-quite stayed put when I moved my arms, and an itty-bitty stain right under my third button that I’ve been pretending not to notice for years.
I looked like somebody who’d blindly thrown things together in the dark.
I realized in that elevator that this wasn’t a one-time thing. My blazer wasn’t uniquely offensive – I had just pulled it out of a crowd of other clothes that fell into its category of despairingly mediocre. You know what I’m talking about.
The shirts that aren’t quite see-through but also aren’t exactly opaque. The pants that don’t solve your trouser woes but don’t have obvious problems either. The dresses that look adorable on the hangars in the store but kind of bunch weirdly in real life.
When you wear things like that, you always feel like someone who could have dressed better if they’d just tried harder. We all own those “good enough” clothes. But what if they were the problem?
I started noticing how many times every day I was falling back on these meh garments. The not-quite-black pants that don’t quite button but work if I wear a belt. The grey sweater that’s the perfect shade of blue-grey but is 100% cashmere so it pills anytime I wash it.
The adorable flats from three years ago that have now been flattened so many times they might as well be mud-flats. All of these things were eating up space in my closet and actively making me look bad. I talked about my theory with a friend of mine named Sarah who styles people for a living.
Dead last laugh. “Claire, that’s what I call ‘the almost problem.’ It’s literally the first thing I work on when people hire me because they have closets full of clothes but nothing to wear.” Apparently every stylist has a name for this problem. Sarah calls them “almost” pieces.
Another stylist friend calls them “compromise garments.” Someone else told me they “roach warfare” their closets of anything that falls into this category. “The worst part about ‘almost’ pieces,” Sarah explained to me over peppermint tea and tiny hats, “Is that they start to become your wardrobe baseline. Once you wear enough things that aren’t quite right for your body or your lifestyle, you start to think that’s normal.
Then you no longer notice those lousy-fitting jeans you wear all the time because you don’t realize how bad they make you look anymore. But I promise you they do.” Gulp. She was right.
How many times had I lazily thrown on the “easy” things instead of taking the time to put together something better? Suddenly my whole closet was tainted by mediocre-at-best garments I didn’t realize I had accepted as wardrobe staples. Sarah told me she has clients who get really amped up when they purge all their “almost” clothes.
They finally notice the holes in their closets because they’ve been so used to filling them with stuff that doesn’t quite work. I was terrified of emptying out my whole closet, but I knew she was right: Hiding behind bad clothes wasn’t doing me any favors. As I started whittling away my “good enough” wardrobe, I realized I had way more “almost” pieces than I thought.
The scarf that didn’t really match anything. The heels I wore once and hurt my feet so now never wear. The dress that was too tiny in the hips but I loved the neckline so kept anyway.
Each piece made me look and feel slightly less than my best. Sarah told me I needed to take stock of my whole wardrobe – especially the things that seemed “good enough” to keep. I knew immediately what my junky clothes looked like.
But the hard part? Identifying all the pieces I wasn’t totally in love with but kept anyway. I was horrified by how many pieces made the cut.
Sweatpants with holes in them that I refused to throw out because “sweatpants are supposed to have holes!” Why did I keep jogging around my apartment in gangster sweatpants? The blouses that seemed like a great idea when I bought them but weren’t really “my color”? Why did I own so many clothes that weren’t actually my color??!?
Oh, and don’t get me started on my closet full of tops that don’t match any of my pants/skirts/dresses. Once I started digging through clothes I’d previously convinced myself were “good enough,” I could have emptied out half of Target. I am happy to report that now that I’ve tossed all my “good enough” clothes, I don’t feel like I have nothing to wear.
In fact, it’s easier than ever to get dressed in the morning. When everything in your closet is actually fits and looks good on you, putting an outfit together isn’t stressful at all. How the hell did I not realize that sooner? !
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I’ve realized I’ve been approaching my wardrobe all wrong. I used purchase clothes based on whether I loved them or not. Lately I’ve been buying whatever fills a need – gifts from boxes of “things I should wear” rather than things I actually want to wear.
I’ve been trained to think of my clothes as needs rather than wants. “Do I NEED black pants?” I ask myself while browsing. Of course not.
Do I NEED that cute top from H&M? Again, no! But because we’ve been conditioned to believe we “need” basic clothes items, we convince ourselves that everything in our wardrobe is worth holding onto.
So we keep our stretchy black pants that smile at us from the corner of our closet every morning when we get dressed, mocking us with their slightly-loser-than-original shape. I began to think of my wardrobe like dating life. Would you date someone you weren’t that into just because they were “good enough?” Of course not!
You wait for the right person to come along. So why wasn’t I doing the same with my clothes? Another super-weird category was clothes I loved but didn’t quite fit me correctly.
A vintage dress that was too tight around the boobs. High waisted jeans that only sort-of-zipped up. Even a few pairs of shoes that were beautiful but killed my feet after half a mile.
Way too often I convince myself to wear stuff I don’t completely love because it’s cute otherwise. Sarah helped me see that “just because something costs more doesn’t mean it’s worth keeping. When you hold onto expensive clothes that you don’t actually wear because you feel bad about spending the money, you’re just throwing away that money.
It’s okay to admit you wasted money and move on with your life instead of letting that expensive shirt collect dust in your closet.” “If I REALLY loved it,” I would protest, holding a silky navy blouse up to my chest. “Why did I *buy this? *” Um, probably because it was cute and on sale? Which brings me to my next problem….
Clothes I bought with the future me in mind, rather than the real me. The prom dress I saved up for in middle school and never wore because I didn’t have a prom. The ballet flats I thought I’d wear to every wedding I went to until I learned I have to wear sneakers at literally every wedding because of my feet.
The work shirts I thought would look professional but actually just look boring. Yes, some of these clothes were worn as jokes. But others I wore once and never again out of misplaced guilt or self-loathing.
Why did I keep clothes that I didn’t look good in and would never wear? Ghosts of myself past. Basic pieces. *Basic* pieces?!
Who doesn’t know how to buy basic clothes?? Well lil ol’ me obviously! Obviously I needed basics.
But the problem was I didn’t allow myself to be picky about them. Instead of only buying white t-shirts that fit perfectly and look like they cost more than they did, I bought every white t-shirt in the store. Somehow things that should be easy (basic shirts, jeans, etc.) are the ones that end up in our closets the longest because “they don’t go bad!” Wrong – they just go bad at your waist.
Needless to say I immediately went out and bought all the correct basics. It’s mindblowing how much better high-quality basics can make you look. Sarah says if you get every other piece of your wardrobe figured out but neglect the basics, you’ll never have a truly awesome wardrobe.
Now I know what she means. After I did my major wardrobe purge I had to resist the urge to go buy all the things to fill it back up. But it wasn’t until I left empty spots in my closet that I realized what I was actually missing.
I didn’t miss leggings. My office wears casual enough that I could totally get away with leggings, but I didn’t even think about them once they were gone. It took me not wearing clothes to work for awhile to realize how much I loved my work clothes!
Lesson learned: if I know I love it, I will wear it.
Plain and simple. Clothes shopping will never be the same for me again.
Now before I buy anything I ask myself: Will this make me feel good? Am I beyond thrilled about buying this? Do I love love love love this item?
It’s a lot harder to say yes to all those questions than you might think. But since I’ve started asking myself them, I end up buying way less and loving everything I buy. My closet isn’t perfect yet but it’s getting there.
And honestly, that’s okay. We can all live our best style lives even if we have a few “almost” pieces. Just know that they’re probably holding you back more than you realize.
