When I hear the term “capsule wardrobe”, I immediately think of it as a “time capsule” wardrobe. Not in a weird way – I don’t imagine putting all of my clothes into a box and digging it up in fifty years. But there’s something about the idea of a “capsule” that makes it feel timeless. Like Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, Audrey Hepburn, Grace Kelly. Not so much ‘the trends’ - just a classic, elegant style.
I’ll tell you that’s what I strive for – a ‘timeless, classic’ look – but what I’m not telling you is that I’ve been on a mad hunt over the past three weeks for one of those winter beanies with the fur pom. Or as I’ve been calling them “you know those hats with the fuzzy ball? Yea, I want one of those.” I don’t know if that look falls under “timeless” or “classic”, but I LIKE IT. Even though I'll be looking back at pictures with my grandchildren in fifty years and they will ask, “Why does your hat have a fuzzy ball hanging from it?”, and I’ll be like, “I don’t know. That was the style back then.” *Shrugs*
For the record, I couldn’t find one. The department stores swept those winter hats clean in January when they made room for their Spring collections. So, I’ll just have to stick with my regular, old, BORING, non-fuzzy-ball winter apparel until next year.
Full disclaimer: I am not a photographer. Sure, I take a lot of pictures – but that’s essentially all I am: a picture-taker. When purchasing a new camera, photographers are people who consider things like shutter speed, lens selection, aperture, and various camera-words-that-I-don’t-know-because-I’m-not-a-photographer. Meanwhile, in the other camp, a “picture-taker” will pick out a camera based on… “I don’t know, is it easy to use? Is it heavy? Do I have to know stuff about cameras to be able to use it? Will it take better pictures than my iPhone?”
These are all real questions that I asked when searching for a new camera.
Photographers don’t like picture-takers (I’m just guessing). At least they don’t like the picture-takers who like to call themselves photographers. (Again, I’m just guessing.) I feel like if I had taken a lot of time and practice to hone my craft, I’d be pretty annoyed with the person who shows up with an iPhone and an Instagram account and refers to themselves as a “photographer”. Congratulations, you officially have as much photography experience as Chrissy Teigen (who, for all I know, could actually be a very skilled photographer.)
There are two kinds of bloggers out there: the kind who have goals and a media kit - and the other kind, the kind who have to Google "what is a media kit?" when someone reaches out to them for a sponsored post and -- well, actually, first they have to head on over to the blogging forum and ask, "Hey guys, how do I handle a sponsored post? So-and-so is reaching out to me and I don't know what to do", and someone says, "send them your media kit".
I still don't really understand what a media kit is. But that's okay, because it sounds a little more "professional" than what I am currently set up for.
Around the middle of October, I was playing around with this new blogger site that I found called Canva (game changer, by the way) that allows you to make graphics and banners and all of the professional-looking-images that you see the professional-looking-bloggers have.
I got really excited. I felt like I'd stumbled into "the big secret" that all of the professional bloggers already know. I found a fancy graphic site that is going to CHANGE EVERYTHING...
I'm searching for a new purse, "for winter". A black chainlink cross-body purse, to be exact. I don't know what winter has to do with it - but I saw some girl in a movie wearing a grey peacoat with a black chainlink cross-body purse and big sunglasses, and I was like "That's it! THAT'S what I want to look like this winter!"
I don't know where this comes from. I don't know why I see a random stranger in a made-for-tv movie and think that I have to change up my entire look for a season. It just happens. It happened with Peyton Sawyer on One Tree Hill when I suddenly decided I needed a leather jacket. It happened with Serena Van Der Woodsen on Gossip Girl when I decided that my "new style" should be "boho chic New Yorker-y". It's even happened with YouTubers. After watching two hours of Carly Cristman videos, I committed to only wearing neutral colors for a year. A WHOLE YEAR.
My entire wardrobe has been decided by fictional characters and people that I've never met in real life. That's probably normal, right?
My mom used to have these Halloween-inspired window clings that she let me bust out every October. Stickers of ghosts, witches, pumpkins - I think one of them said Happy Halloween? Probably? Every October she'd pull them out of her "Holiday Decorations" bin and let me stick them onto the glass door leading out to the deck. I loved it. This - aside from the in-school Halloween parties where the teachers handed out candy and we got to play games all afternoon - was my favorite part of Halloween.
I mean, I was like seven. The majority of highlights at that age were: candy, that giant parachute thing they let us play with during gym class, and stickers. It's the little things.
I told my mom I wanted to start hanging them in the giant full-story window in the front of the house. "There's more space," I said. "It's going to look so pretty!" I said. And I'm pretty sure if I'd had a more pronounced vocabulary at that age, I would have said, "It's going to be so festive! It's FALL! Let's decorate for FALL!!!!"
So, for the record, that is who you're taking advice from. Someone whose Fall decor once consisted of the desire to stick glass cling-ons of witches and pumpkins to the front of her house. Because she thought they were, like, "so pretty".
If I had to define my personal style, I would call it: "Target Women's Section".
Do you know what I mean? When you see a woman walking down the street and think to yourself, "She totally bought that at Target".
Yea, that's me. I'm the woman. 2/3 of my closet is made up of the women's section from the store. (I mean, they're RIGHT THERE. In the front of the store. As soon as you walk in.)
Notice how the men's section is always squeezed into a back corner? But not the women's section. Oh, NO. Let's put that right next to the entrance, so that all of the women who think they're only coming in here for groceries and toilet paper will walk by and say, "Oh THAT'S cute.... well, I mean, while I'm in here... it doesn't hurt to LOOK at the clothes..."
Well, it DOESN'T hurt to look, right?
I wouldn't say that I have "anxiety" about wearing Spanx (and honestly, no one SHOULD have anxiety about wearing a brand of sucky-in-y underwear - because that's essentially all they are) but I HAVE noticed that when I'm wearing a tight dress, along with - what is essentially a modern day girdle - I feel, a little.... well, anxious. Stiff. Uncomfortable. There's a tightness in my chest.../abdomen.
I mean, most of that is the sucky-in-y part of the underwear that I paid $50 to literally wedge myself into so that I could look good in a dress for a few hours, but you know what I mean. I worry. The Spanx alter blood circulation to my brain (probably, I don't know. You'd think they've got to be cutting off some circulation around my torso. Otherwise, are they even doing their job?) My inner fat girl that needed the Spanx in the first place starts sending paranoid, worried signals to my brain.
"What if people can tell?" I think. "Can people tell that I'm wearing a girdle?"
I honestly do not know how anyone would ever be able to "tell", unless they came over and lifted up my dress and said, "Hey I see you're wearing some funny underwear under there." And if someone ever does that to you, I can PROMISE you that the the highlight of that story will not be "I was wearing Spanx", it will be "A stranger lifted up my dress. It was weird."