Simply. Wearing. Clothes.

Can you have "style" if you don’t “style up” your looks?

My formula for getting dressed most days is this: 

• I put on a bottom.

• I put on a top.

• If it’s chilly, I’ll chuck on a top layer.

• If I go outside, I’ll put on weather-appropriate shoes and outerwear.

That’s it. Sometimes there’s more thought put into this equation. Other times, it’s rushing to grab whatever I have draped over my desk chair that passes the sniff test. Even before having a child, but especially now, I find myself drawn to simple, effortless outfit compositions. Whether it’s a trait born from aesthetic minimalism or laziness —I’m not sure — but this straightforward approach to getting dressed has served me well over the years, even if it occasionally feels a little dull.

Despite my obsession with beautiful clothing, style accoutrements like bags and shoes have never piqued my interest to the same extent. I don’t own a lot of peripheral pieces, prefer deep pockets to any purse, and happily wear the same jewelry and glasses everyday (my husband recently remarked that I’ve worn the same earrings nearly every day since we met — a cheap pair of hypoallergenic silver hoops). I select my footwear based on ground conditions, not the level of “wrongness” it might lend to the rest of what I’m wearing. Tinted shades are for sunny days only. When it comes to the the “extras” of an outfit, I am a form-follows-function disciple that would make Dieter Rams proud.

Source

I’m aware of the social media trend that compares two looks involving the same items of clothing side-by-side: one in which the pieces are simply “worn”, and the other where the pieces are “styled” with flourishing techniques and accessories. The implied message is that the second iteration is the superior, more elevated way to present oneself, while the former comes off as frumpy and basic — devoid of personal style.

While I appreciate how people can transform the same outfit base into different looks via individualized modifiers (i.e., how the garments are fashioned on the body and the accessories used to complete an ensemble), I’m a believer that opting to wear clothes more plainly isn’t necessarily a fashion failure. More isn’t always more. And choosing to wear a shirt untucked can be as much a styling choice as a hem enfolded with precision. To be clear, I‘m not knocking on those who embrace a higher degree of outfit complexity or have honed their skill with a square scarf. I’m often captivated by the creative necklace stacks, shirt sandwiches, and sweater-tying wizardry demonstrated by the likes of Leandra Medine, Tibi’s Style Class cohort, and fabulous women encountered on the street.

Forever trying to decode how to wear a scarf.

On some level, I find visuals of maximalist styling and cheeky outfit details delightful and inspirational. But I’ve realized that when it comes to emulating these techniques, the more I do to an outfit for the sake of adding interest, the less I feel like myself. My attempts at creating dynamism never survive the day — accessories get shed; the half tuck I spent 10 minutes on is ruined after the first trip to the bathroom. There is a gulf between the outfits I live in and the ones I deem photo-worthy. The simplicity of my everyday attire, in contrast to the eclectic style content I frequently consume, has often left me wondering if I have some sort of style defect. Which then feeds into this overarching anxiety that in spite of all the time and energy I’ve put into my wardrobe, into honing and reflecting upon my style, I just don’t have “it”.

As marketers know, insecurity is a great entry point for making a sale. When stuck in a loop of comparison and self-doubt, it’s easy to be convinced that in order to possess true style, you just need to upgrade your arsenal of styling tools. You then spend hours searching for the perfect personality pieces to add — bags, shoes, and jewelry that you don’t really want for imagined looks that you’ll probably never wear. I’ve fallen into this trap time and time again, from when I was in high school spending pocket money on cheap, hot-glue-assembled headbands (because Gossip Girl was on TV), to most recently diving down a glass bead necklace rabbit hole — notwithstanding the fact that I have a grabby toddler. Over the years, I’ve brought home many “outfit-making” scarves, purses, belts, hats, and pieces of costume jewelry that never saw much wear.

These days, I’m with Lin of Out of the Bag in that “I feel best when I lean heavily into the casual tone of my lifestyle and avoid overcomplicating my outfits by adding contrived details”. I’ve accepted that my style sensibilities steer me towards stripped-down outfits with minimal components. For that reason, I’m drawn towards clothes that are expressive and do the talking, rather than basics that serve as a canvas for an ever-changing roster of ornaments.

I’ve thought about how my “style” shows up in how I dress, as someone who is adverse to most “styling” inputs, and came up with the following:

• playing with proportions and shapes

• pairings of colours, patterns, and textures

• juxtaposition of hardwearing-utilitarian and quirky-vintage pieces (the product of studying industrial design at an art school)

• subtle signature details (e.g., shell buttons)

Through these concepts, I feel like I can convey a lot about my aesthetic inclinations without all the extras that fashion influencers and editors are trying to sell me.

But I’m not about pigeon-holing myself either — if I feel like slapping on a novelty brooch or cuffing my jeans to show off some statement socks — I will. I may not be the type of person who sees accessories as integral to their outfits, but I do like having well-designed, functional pieces that are versatile enough to complement almost any look (I’m partial to a sleek black leather shoe). And while I won’t go out of my way to add depth and finesse, I particularly enjoy getting dressed on cooler days so I can exercise my layering chops.

Style is ever-evolving. Maybe someday the leading-with-accents approach will click for me and I’ll sneer at my old, boorish ways. In the meantime, I’m at peace with my 5-minute dressing routine and uncluttered entryway.