Ever seen someone who looks undeniably amazing wearing what appears to be whatever they just grabbed from their closet? That vaguely-washed cool girl vibe? I used to think that was a real thing until I became BFFs with the girl who everyone else at school pickup is convinced has “natural style.” Last week, I ran into her at Target at 7AM.
Don’t judge me, something came up and I needed poster board for Emma’s school project that was due that day…whatever. Sarah was there too and looked like she came straight from bed wearing jeans and a soft sweater. Effortless.
I told her how great her outfit was and she burst out laughing so hard she snorted. “Oh Megan,” she deadpanned as she pushed her overflowing cart of bins, boxes, baskets and every other organizational device Target sells. “I woke up at 5:30 this morning. I tried on four different sweaters before picking this one, switched my earrings twice because they weren’t working with the neckline, and I’m wearing Spanx with these jeans that cost more than both of my car payments.
Getting ready took me an hour and 15 minutes,inely.”” Lightbulbs went off in my head.
Effortless style is the fashion equivalent of Instagram models’ “no makeup selfies” with flawless skin concealer tans and exasperated faces pouting into the camera. It’s performance art. I started thinking of how many times I’ve scrolled through Pinterest pinning “effortless” outfits that make me feel awful about myself.
I could never wear a white button-up and jeans and look cool and casual like that. What I didn’t realize is that neither can they. Odds are they had better lighting, a professional stylist, and three people on standby to make sure their jacket folds just so.
I even did some research into the history of “effortless style,” and guess where that came from? The aristocrats of old who needed to show other aristocrats that they were wealthy enough to not have to work, duh. If you looked like you worked too hard at looking chic, you were “middle class” and killedinan existential crisis.
You know, back when that sort of thing mattered. What does matter is that we are still subscribing to standards set by people who thought it was embarrassing to have to work at anything. Lovely.
What frustrates me even more though, is how fashion and beauty companies profit off of our desire to have “effortless style.” Have you noticed how brands charge you $200 for a plain white t- shirt because it’s “crafted to drape naturally?” Or how we spend an arm and a leg on makeup to create a “no makeup look” that requires ten different products? It’s diabolical. They’re selling us the perception of not caring while making us care so much that we’ll spend ridiculous amounts of money on a shirt.
There was this interview I read with a celebrity stylist who works with lots of actresses known for their effortless style. He basically said that any of the most “natural-looking” things you see these people wearing took maximum effort. Multiple fittings, custom hemming and tailoring, hours coaching their clients on how to casually tilt their hand when carrying a $3,000 bag across photoshoots.
It’s a lie we tell ourselves to make us feel better about our own participation in performative perfection. Apparently it works the same way with hair. My girlfriend Jessica used to be a hairdresser before she had kids.
We were talking about this the other day over coffee and she said hair styles we think look “natural” or “effortless” are some of the toughest to perfect. “-girl waves and that stupid twisted up top-knot bun everyone and their moms are wearing? Super high technical skills,” she said. “I spend way more time on products and fixes to make someone’s hair look ‘natural’ than I do on formal stuff.” All of this finally made sense to me. Every time I saw one of these cool girls wearing what appeared to be some basic shirt and jeans and looked wow-worthy, I would try to replicate it and inevitably fail miserably.
Turns out that shirt cost more than what I spend on groceries and those jeans weren’t supposed to fit like jeans are supposed to fit…they were supposed to slump down at the waist for some reason. The more I thought about it, the pissed off I got. We’ve been conditioned to try to attain an unattainable level of style, but pretend we didn’t try at all.
It’s unrealistic and sets us up to feel insecure because we’re only showing our authentic selves while comparing ourselves to someone’s highlighted showcase. Add Instagram to the mix and it’s even worse. I follow all these mom bloggers who post pics of themselves in “I threw this on” type of outfits that are, in fact, adorable outfits thoughtfully put together.
Their hair looks great, their children are never dirty, they live in homes that look branded and they make it look easy cooking their families breakfast. Meanwhile I’m crying because there’s oatmeal on my shirt wondering if I even brushed my teeth this morning. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against putting effort into looking good.
What I take issue with is pretending you didn’t. If you woke up, spent two hours getting ready, and feel amazing walking out your door, OWN IT. There’s nothing wrong with taking pride in your appearance or taking the time to look nice.
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I don’t try to look effortless anymore. But trust me, that took effort. Talking to Sarah and learning all this made me reevaluate how I looked at getting dressed in the morning.
Instead of trying to emulate some fake ideal, I started focusing on what would actually make getting ready easier on me. It ended up taking a lot of effort up front; stuff like finally getting my jeans hemmed and learning which shirts actually flattered my “mom body.” But once I did the legwork, getting dressed became much easier. I also stopped beating myself up about the effort I choose to put in.
If I wanna try on three different sweaters before I walk out the door to pickup my kids, I do it. If I want to stress about what to wear to my husband’s work holiday party, I will. This whole idea that it’s vain for us to care about how we look is insulting to ourselves.
I realized that truly EFFORTLESS style isn’t about how little effort you put into your outfit. It’s about putting effort into the things that make getting dressed easier. Instead of trying to keep up with trendy pieces that aren’t practical for me, I invest in basics that I KNOW will look good on me.
Instead of stressing about all the “don’ts” I read about how to wear certain bodies, I figured out what works for me and own it. I also stopped comparing myself to other people’s fantasy lives. When I see someone who looks amazing, I’ll compliment them – but now I don’t assume they woke up like that.
They very well may have. And if they didn’t, that’s ok too. Maybe they have the time/income/knowledge to invest in themselves and that’s great.
Just like it’s great that I spend what I can on things that make me feel good. The weirdest thing is, after I stopped trying to look effortless, I actually found it to be easier to get dressed. I have a uniform of sorts.
Jeans I know fit well, comfy shoes, and shirts that don’t have to be tucked into tricky bras or adjusted every five seconds. If I need to look fancy, I have staple pieces I know can make that happen. It’s not revolutionary, but it’s real.
Real effortless style comes when you know yourself so well, you don’t have to overthink getting dressed. It may take work to figure out what that is, but once you do, getting ready actually can become easier. This past Sunday, one of the moms from pickup complimented me on how put together I always look.
I wanted to laugh because I changed outfits twice that morning and had spent 15 minutes searching for a pair of shoes without weird stains on them. But then I thought – who cares? To her, I looked effortless.
And maybe getting dressed that way required some small, deliberate changes I’ve now automated to my routine. Who knows? “I work from home,” I told her. “So really I just wear sweats all day.
But when I do leave the house, I’ve figured out what looks good on me and I wear variations of the same thing every day.
Nothing effortless about that, I just give up trying to pretend I’m someone I’m not.” She looked relieved. Because I think we all walk around thinking there’s something wrong with us because we don’t “effortlessly” have it all together. News flash.
No one does. We’re just moms wearing clothes trying to not look like death while taking care of our kids. And that’s okay.
Let’s just keep telling that to ourselves until we start believing it. Because as long as we all think someone out there isn’t stumbling around in their house wearing sweats until lunchtime, we’ll forever feel insecure about what we have (or don’t have) on our backs. Plus at this stage in my life, I have better things to focus on than if my outfits are giving off the right vibes.
Like not letting my children die and remembering to actually put my laundry in the dryer. You know, things that really matter.
