I’ve always been an “all or nothing” kind of girl. If I go into a store I like to imagine my entire wardrobe reinvented anew. Then comes…the bump.
That sickening moment when you realise you don’t actually have enough money to buy fourteen new outfits on a Saturday afternoon. “My dear,” my grandmother used to say, “good clothes aren’t cheap, and cheap clothes aren’t good.” As a seamstress herself, she saved up for months for her “tartan wool coat” that lasted her thirty years. I smiled indulgently as she lectured me about the value of clothesmanship, secretly condescending that she just didn’t know anything about fashion. Two decades later there I was, at age 28, staring grimly at piles of ratty fast fashion in my bedroom, swearing darkly about sewing machine needles.
What changed? One day I’d gone on a seemingly innocent lunch-break shopping spree and found myself at a career-making work dinner ready to make a mockery of myself..
Literally.
As I reached for the bread basket, one of the buttons popped off my work shirt, pinged across the table, bounced up and onto someone’s roast chicken.
Then it landed in his wine glass. Silence is a quiet room.
Empty wine glass thunking onto hard wood floor is a whole other kind of silence. I wanted to die. My shirt was brand new.
It had been worn maybe three times, which should have been enough wear to last until retirement, but the bleeping washing machine & dryer had annihilated it faster than I could blink. On my way home I counted my clothes for the first time in my life. I owned 37 tops.
Thirty seven! And yet here I was thinking I had “nothing to wear.” Half were impulse purchases from Forever21, Topshop or Zara that I bought in the excitement of payday – cash apps beeping like Vegas slot machines as Ben Franklin shed his life in my wallet. Nine out of ten had ripped seams or stretched out holes after just three months.
I knew things had to change. My budget couldn’t handle swapping out my entire wardrobe for Investment Flat grade wardrobe overnight, but maybe I could think about how I bought clothes in advance. I developed what I like to jokingly refer to as my “investment wardrobe timeline.” I made a list of needs versus wants.
Gone would be the days of buying adorable tops just because they were cute. I was still going to buy cute as fuck tops, but I had to be realistic about whether they would actually fit into my lifestyle. I didn’t freelance from cocktail parties (yet), so why did I feel like I needed seven faux suedeCrop tops?
As we were shepherded out of the quiet diner, I pledged to myself that I would stop living like I was seven-going-on- twenty-seven. How’d I do it? Simple: I shifted my timeline for major wardrobe purchases from monthly to seasonal.
Rather than blowing through £50-100 every payday on a flurry of treats, I decided to save that money for three months straight. By season’s end, I would have £300-400 to treat myself to one or two investment pieces that would really last. Spring became jacket season.
I had three months to browse and window shop until finally settling on one amazing outerwear piece that would last me through Brit-ish summers (AKA all four seasons decked out on the savviest of sewers). Summer was dress & separates season. Autumn was knit & boot season, and winter was reserved for Serious Tailoring & special occasion stuff.
It was agonizingly difficult at first to rein in my shopping impulses. Trying not to browse online stores, walking past storefronts blooming with new arrivals, witnessing friends purchasing adorable new blouses I’d covet endlessly- gods I hated this month hype woman.’ I opened up a savings account just for clothes and stared longingly at the balance, willing it to be bigger faster. Impatient didn’t begin to cover my anguish those first few months.
Until one March…I pulled the trigger. My oldest pair of winter boots were falling apart, and it was high time I treated myself to some real grown woman knee-high boots. I found an incredible pair from a heritage brand who were having their annual sale.
I blew almost £350 on a trench coat. To this day, it was the most expensive item of clothing I had ever purchased. I nearly passed out cold.
But two years later, that coat still looks new, wears with anything, and makes me look put together even when I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirt. That’s what I love about building your wardrobe this way. Suddenly every clothing purchase becomes intentional.
I research the fuck out of potential purchases, weighing fabric & construction against versatility & whether I’d still want to wear it in five years. I try things on twice. Go home.
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Sleep on it. Repeat. If I still LOVE it, I buy it.
If I’m remotely unsure, it’ll almost always stay on the rack. I know that sounds like common sense, but trust me. I am the same person who once bought a pair of leopard print jeans on sale.
Reader, they were expensive. And while they were on sale, they were still not cheap. I wore them twice.
Instead, I learned to funnel my shopping ADD into my inevitable monthly splurge. Whether it’s vintage maxi skirts, a really well-made high street jumper, or designer bag from Vestiaire I’m now saving for quality pieces that I’ll wear season after season. Sure, I’ll still splurge on that occasionally, but my splurges now have meaning.
These days my wardrobe looks almost nothing like it used to. It’s not that I’ve filled it with trendy Scandi brand chillax trousers or fancy schmancy designer dresses. It’s that every.single.thing serves a purpose and brings me joy when I wear it.
Because everything works together, I actually wear everything in my wardrobe, which means I don’t feel like throwing myself through my closet every time I get dressed. My most recent purchase? A pair of leather boots that retailed for nearly £300.
I would have bought SIX pair of Topshop boots for that price over THREE years in my fast fashion days. I would have complained about how they all ripped at the seams within months too. These boots (and my others from years past) will last me a decade+ if I care for them properly.
They only look better with age, and can be resoled when the time comes. I’ll end up spending pennies on cost per wear. This doesn’t mean I’ve gone completely prudes whore when it comes to shopping.
Clothes that go out of style by next season, white shirts that will inevitably meet their demise through spilled coffee, yoga trousers that will be drenched in post-workout sweat- these items are still fun-employed mid-range fast fashion brands because that just makes sense for me. But how do you start?! Allow me to save you some trial and error: start with the current or upcoming season.
Right now. Open up a new savings account or envelope (we old timers still do that shit) and portion out what you normally spend on silly clothes each month. Hang onto that money and make a wishlist of things you need to round out your wardrobe.
Research higher end brands that catch your eye and scout out when they typically have sales. Don’t break your budget! Three months from now you’ll have enough to invest in a really amazing coat that gives you palpable feels of adulting, or a pair of dream shoes that don’t kill your feet after two blocks, or a chic bag that won’t start unraveling after a month.
Find something timeless that you love, will wear with multiple pieces you already own, and suits your actual lifestyle. Trust me, it feels good to finally buy something that doesn’t scream “thrifting spree!” Trust me, shopping for clothes this way will slowly revolutionize your wardrobe. Each quarterly purchase allows you to fill in the gaps of your closet without breaking the bank.
Rather than trying to keep up with fast fashion trends you’ll have a far better idea of your personal style because you’re making more intentional choices.
Oh, and burn baby BURN: buying less also means you’re wasting way less.
The little I buy is typically better made (both ethically and sustainably) than your average fast fashion bfd, so it will last me longer AND produce less waste when I’m done with it.
I actually know what fabrics have the lowest environmental impact and which brands give a rat’s ass about how their workers are treated. Fuck me – I’m one of those people. I will never be perfect.
Last month I bought an unfortunate lime green / navy ring flower print jumpsuit that makes me feel like the reincarnation of Duke Saboteer. But hey, it was ⅓ off! And also it was my birthday AND I had a really bad day so shopping was definitely self-care this one time.
Point is I know my weakness and can treat myself responsibly rather than blowing my entire budget on stupid shit every month. Grandma would be so proud of me…if she wasn’t chiding me for buying too many clothes instead of making my own damn stuff. Never change, Grandma!
Take it from a reformed fast fashion addict who spent way too long stressing about why her overflowing wardrobe gave her nothing to wear: start small, and start now. Begin building that investment wardrobe one fantastic autumn scarf at a time.
