When I started thinking about what my closet says about me, I realized that I want it to say something a little different than it has been saying. It doesn’t currently reflect what I want it to say, but I am starting to get together what I think that is.
My closet has been a pretty steady issue the past few years. I almost said “my clothes” instead of “my closet” but then I thought of my physical closet and remembered the most exciting thing that has happened there recently. A couple of weeks after Ella was born, the whole rack where I hang things broke off of the wall and crashed to the floor with a tremendous commotion in the middle of the night, leaving an incredible pile of tangled clothing, hangers, containers and drywall. As I recall the incident right now it seems very symbolic.
My body, along with my clothing, has been in constant transition ever since I became pregnant over a year ago. My mid twenties closet was a little trendy, a little sexy, a little hippy, a little missionary, a little professional, a little homemade. There were a LOT of clothes, most of them cheap and only made to last a season. Enter pregnancy. At first I lost weight everywhere but my boobs, which would have been heavenly except the only activity I was dressing for was lying sick on the couch and waiting impatiently til I could lie in my bed and sleep. As my belly grew and I branched out into maternity things, I followed advice from my pregnancy books and borrowed a lot. In the process, as I look back, I was losing a little bit of my style identity. But it was just the beginning. Once Ella was born there would be no way back into most of those old clothes, not just because of breastfeeding boobs and a slightly larger bum, but because I have become a different lady.
My activities now include a lot of slobber and goo, but also lots of snuggling and some laying on the floor, not to mention exposing my breasts every 2-3 hours. My scrubs have been put away on the top shelf for my once a month shift. (Yay! I never liked them! Come to think of it, need to sell a bunch.) A lot of the cheap stuff just doesn’t stand up to all the pulling it takes to breastfeed and the frequency with which my things now go through the wash. I’m transitioning to a different way of thinking about clothes.
I want things to be extremely practical and to last. I want things that are definitely pretty, but also simple. I need things that work seasonally since I am trying to keep the house closer to the actual temperature outside to save money from quitting my job. I also need easy breastfeeding access. I really want to pare down the number of things in my closet. (Sometimes that’s easiest when going on vacation. Maybe our trip this month would be a good time?) In terms of style, I want things that are pretty and feminine but that don’t distract from my smile and from my gorgeous baby. I want it all simpler.
After the closet crash, I went through a lot of my clothes, but wasn’t aware yet of how fully my lifestyle and look would change. A tricky part of putting my closet together these days is that I may get pregnant again in the next couple of years. If I stop breastfeeding in between (likely) my boobs are sure to shrink right back down. I can’t count on my shape for more than a few months at a time. Transition is a theme of my current wardrobe.
Even in the midst of my changing philosophy of clothing and my need for fluctuating sizes of clothing, I think my closet says that motherhood is important to me, that I am individual enough to choose which trends I want to incorporate and which to skip, that I love feeling pretty, and that I am into getting dressed for life.
(This is not Pastor Dan. This is Sue but the account is in Dan's name.)
I've never not cared how I looked. However I've often been confused, even overwhelmed about how to know what I wanted to look like. Over the years my looks (I certainly would not go so far as to call them styles) have included would-be preppy, would-be hippie/grunge, young working girl on a tiny buget, young mother in jeans and tee shirts, mother of teen-age daughters who hand down clothes I foolishly try to squeeze into mistakenly thinking they make me look young, and horrified matron on whom nothing looks like it should.
If I ask what my clothes say about me right now it would probably be "historically fashion lazy." Right this minute if I opened my closet door they would probably sigh, "We're tired. Can we get some red in here?"
But what would I like them to say? How about "simplicity with a punchline." How about "easy grace." Maybe "fashion is art" or "put together with thought--but not too much." Or just "See--she finally got it."
When I started thinking about what my closet says about me, I realized that I want it to say something a little different than it has been saying. It doesn’t currently reflect what I want it to say, but I am starting to get together what I think that is.
ReplyDeleteMy closet has been a pretty steady issue the past few years. I almost said “my clothes” instead of “my closet” but then I thought of my physical closet and remembered the most exciting thing that has happened there recently. A couple of weeks after Ella was born, the whole rack where I hang things broke off of the wall and crashed to the floor with a tremendous commotion in the middle of the night, leaving an incredible pile of tangled clothing, hangers, containers and drywall. As I recall the incident right now it seems very symbolic.
My body, along with my clothing, has been in constant transition ever since I became pregnant over a year ago. My mid twenties closet was a little trendy, a little sexy, a little hippy, a little missionary, a little professional, a little homemade. There were a LOT of clothes, most of them cheap and only made to last a season. Enter pregnancy. At first I lost weight everywhere but my boobs, which would have been heavenly except the only activity I was dressing for was lying sick on the couch and waiting impatiently til I could lie in my bed and sleep. As my belly grew and I branched out into maternity things, I followed advice from my pregnancy books and borrowed a lot. In the process, as I look back, I was losing a little bit of my style identity. But it was just the beginning. Once Ella was born there would be no way back into most of those old clothes, not just because of breastfeeding boobs and a slightly larger bum, but because I have become a different lady.
My activities now include a lot of slobber and goo, but also lots of snuggling and some laying on the floor, not to mention exposing my breasts every 2-3 hours. My scrubs have been put away on the top shelf for my once a month shift. (Yay! I never liked them! Come to think of it, need to sell a bunch.) A lot of the cheap stuff just doesn’t stand up to all the pulling it takes to breastfeed and the frequency with which my things now go through the wash. I’m transitioning to a different way of thinking about clothes.
I want things to be extremely practical and to last. I want things that are definitely pretty, but also simple. I need things that work seasonally since I am trying to keep the house closer to the actual temperature outside to save money from quitting my job. I also need easy breastfeeding access. I really want to pare down the number of things in my closet. (Sometimes that’s easiest when going on vacation. Maybe our trip this month would be a good time?) In terms of style, I want things that are pretty and feminine but that don’t distract from my smile and from my gorgeous baby. I want it all simpler.
After the closet crash, I went through a lot of my clothes, but wasn’t aware yet of how fully my lifestyle and look would change. A tricky part of putting my closet together these days is that I may get pregnant again in the next couple of years. If I stop breastfeeding in between (likely) my boobs are sure to shrink right back down. I can’t count on my shape for more than a few months at a time. Transition is a theme of my current wardrobe.
Even in the midst of my changing philosophy of clothing and my need for fluctuating sizes of clothing, I think my closet says that motherhood is important to me, that I am individual enough to choose which trends I want to incorporate and which to skip, that I love feeling pretty, and that I am into getting dressed for life.
(This is not Pastor Dan. This is Sue but the account is in Dan's name.)
ReplyDeleteI've never not cared how I looked. However I've often been confused, even overwhelmed about how to know what I wanted to look like. Over the years my looks (I certainly would not go so far as to call them styles) have included would-be preppy, would-be hippie/grunge, young working girl on a tiny buget, young mother in jeans and tee shirts, mother of teen-age daughters who hand down clothes I foolishly try to squeeze into mistakenly thinking they make me look young, and horrified matron on whom nothing looks like it should.
If I ask what my clothes say about me right now it would probably be "historically fashion lazy."
Right this minute if I opened my closet door they would probably sigh, "We're tired. Can we get some red in here?"
But what would I like them to say? How about "simplicity with a punchline." How about "easy grace." Maybe "fashion is art" or "put together with thought--but not too much." Or just "See--she finally got it."