The idea of dressing independently of trends was a learned process for me. Somehow I got caught in a crossfire of fitting in with the other girls at school, rather than choosing items that fit my carefree sprit.
In elementary school, my favorite thing to wear was a plain white t-shirt. I felt that no one would be able to criticize it. A white tee had no kiddie characters, or logos of a brand that would fearfully be an open target for teasing. When I saw it in the hamper, I was left with a sinking feeling of having nothing to wear.
As Y2K trends emerged, I realized that crop tops were not for me...! I felt much more comfortable being in cotton, covered from head to toe. And with this, included my footwear choice, Teva’s with white socks. Yes. I also loved wearing my sweatpants, which meant I was always ready for gym class. Cozy, loosy-goosy stuff was all I wanted to be in. Comfort was freedom.
And now in my 40’s, I’ve adjusted the idea of self-expression through clothing. I still ponder the ‘fit’ but now there are moments where I get self conscious of my aging body. Sometimes I refrain from standing out by wearing something extravagant, because I live in Seattle where a lot of people wear Teva’s with socks. I often feel funny sticking out. Even though I work in fashion and am around these beautiful things all day, I find myself grabbing things that are practical, safe, and adaptable to my surroundings.
Some people dress for others, but how does dressing for ourselves look like? Will we ever feel that grapple of our school days again? The way we curate our life and wardrobe is a choice. Trends move too fast, so in my eyes really anything goes. Whether you are shopping with no limit, or have a minimal wardrobe, each item will serve it’s purpose in your collection.
And sometimes, self-expression doesn’t have to begin with the world watching. It can start in our homes. Before we step outside, there’s an intimacy in dressing for ourselves alone. No audience or judgment but just us choosing how we want to feel.
That’s where comfort becomes its own kind of empowerment. When I designed the Christine Robe, I wanted it to capture that very idea: a garment that lets you sink into yourself, to feel beautiful without needing exterior permission or praise. It’s design was to nurture the relationship you have with yourself, first.
And maybe that’s the real secret of personal style, listening to our little voice that says: yes, this feels like me. Whether it’s a overly worn white tee, Teva’s with socks, or a robe that makes you want to linger a little longer in your morning ritual, you will know.
So, what if your wardrobe became less about presentation and more about reflection? What if each piece, from the most casual to the most creative was simply a mirror of how you want to feel in your own skin?
That’s what has been reeling in my head, as I look at a closet full of my stuff that I love but sometimes doesn’t feel like me.... what does your closet look like?
Love, Margaret
