Postpartum Style Story — Chapter 3: Diary of a Cool Mom

Recounting my first year of motherhood, narrated through the clothes I wore. Part 3/5.

Welcome to the third instalment of Postpartum Style Story: a 5-part series on how I approached dressing as a first-time mom.

Part 1

Part 2

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When I found out my child was due in late summer, a worry that began brewing in the back of my mind was, how am I going to survive being stuck at home alone with a baby over the long winter?

As beautiful, crisp autumn quickly turned frosty and dreary, those fears began to manifest. With life revolving around a roughly blocked schedule of naps and wake windows, we spent much of our days anchored to the home. I found myself in constant anticipation: of her waking up, needing to be fed, then tiring once again. In the routineness of it all, I started to get antsy — there are only so many times one can read The Hungry Caterpillar and remain sane. And while my “chairdrobe” was still going strong, wearing the same clothes day in and day out wasn’t doing anything to remedy this low-key feeling of malaise.

In some ways, I found the 3-6 month stretch to be a sweet spot; my pre-mobile, pre-solids baby no longer spent her waking hours screaming at me (over the injustice of being kicked out of my cozy womb, presumably). It was prime time to be out and about! If it were the summer, I could imagine us whiling away the afternoons exploring neighbourhoods, sampling gelato shops, and hitting baby-friendly hiking trails. Instead, it was the dead of winter. Although a mild one statistically, it was still a hassle getting the both of us bundled up, and the cheek-lacerating winds did not inspire any extended outings.

Desperately craving socialization, I welcomed visits from friends and made plans for coffee. Then, slowly, I became absorbed into the world of “Parent-and-Baby” programming. Being in a room full of infants at various states of development is like going on a safari into humankind’s untamed origins; somewhere, a towering 14-month-old is trampling over a helpless 6-month-old and stealing their rattle. Before I knew it though, I was taking my place at the “circle” every week and singing along, well versed in what Charlie Chaplin did when he went to France.

I enjoyed making parent connections in the neighbourhood and, even more so, scoping out what other caregivers were wearing. Cozy sweatshirts and leggings were well represented in the groups I attended, but I did find sartorial inspiration in outfits that featured workwear-style pieces: a wool sweater with a pair of Dickies, some great vintage-looking overalls with double patched knees. The colour story amongst the adults was also overwhelmingly neutral, which made bolder choices like a tomato red cardigan or multi-coloured Eliza Faulkner top stand out.

As for myself, I was still gravitating towards my established uniform of pleated pants with a button up shirt, maybe swapping in a cashmere sweater if I didn’t plan on nursing. I dressed in a palette of mostly dark blues, browns, and greys — while this limited colour scheme made it easy to look put together, it was feeling a little stuffy and austere, especially next to the cheery rompers I dressed my daughter in. To bring in some fresh air — some coolness and edge — I began incorporating a selection of hardwearing and colourful pieces back into my everyday outfits.

So my barrel leg Rachel Comey cargo jeans (a very trend-laden piece, but I’ve had it for years) went into the rotation, as well as some vintage olive green fatigues I found in the fall. Craving something lighter in shade, I eventually added some light wash vintage carpenter jeans after months of indecision. The deep pockets, adjustable waist via back buckle, and relaxed-but-not-too-baggy fit made it perfect for the increasing amount of time I was spending on my knees.

Adding a pop of colour is nothing groundbreaking, but an effective technique for enlivening an otherwise somber look. My bright red short sleeve knit was a reliable foil for winter’s dreariness, as was the Sophie scarf I made with some leftover yarn the colour of rosehips sweetened by frost. While the knitted neckerchief was not always a practical outfit addition, it worked well for adding some face-framing warmth atop my black winter jackets. A truly wildcard piece I brought into my wardrobe around this time was a corduroy shirt in light pistachio green — a colour that is outside of my comfort zone, but has been surprisingly wearable.

Clearly, I did not think to take pictures of myself during this era.

Although I was still heavily into outfit repeating, adding in some elements that better reflected the style moods I wanted to convey made my wardrobe feel refreshed — and those gloomy days a tad brighter.

Spending more time in the public sphere also made me more conscious about how I was perceived as a mother. It wasn’t that I feared being judged as sloppy (read: incompetent) or basic (read: dull). Rather, I hoped to signal that I was still a creative person, even if I had little time to craft anything other than a few simple looks. That, despite no longer prioritizing my own aesthetic pursuits, the part of me that takes pleasure in self expression through clothes is still there, still alive, waiting for the right moments to emerge.