This is the second installment in a two-part series. Click here to read Part 1: Economic. In addition, special thanks to Katherine, who helped contribute to both today’s installment and yesterday’s.
Yesterday we talked about economic-related questions you should ask yourself before you buy a piece of clothing. Today I’ve prepared a similar list of questions relevant to a piece’s aesthetic merits. The eco lover in me would like to leave it at the quantifiable questions, but the truth is, real life isn’t like that—the value is in what you can’t (or maybe just don’t) measure. I think it’s useful, then, to consider the aesthetics as well as the economics. Just like yesterday, my goal isn’t to make prescriptive lists of what you should or shouldn’t do (“Sheer leggings look disgusting!”, “Skirts over pants are lame!” or “You can only wear white shoes during the summer!”), but just to stir your thoughts about what works for you and what doesn’t.
- Does it match several things I already have? I admire people like Nubby who dress in one color scheme all the time—I bet it’s so easy to match, which makes it easier to shop. Unfortunately, if I attempted sticking exclusively to a color scheme, I’d get tired of it in a few months and then never wear my preferred colors again. However, it’s worth noting which colors, fabrics, and styles you wear most, so you know what goes with what and you can more easily decide whether buying a piece will benefit your wardrobe. For instance, I bought a white shirred-sleeve blouse a few weeks ago, knowing that I’d be able to wear it with denim in all colors, black pants, pencil skirts, plaid kilts, and most of my sundresses. One of my favorite tops is a primary-colored button-up that I bought last year at H&M; I bought it knowing that I’d be able to wear it with three pairs of jeans, two navy skirts, two red sweaters, and three yellow tees. It was a really good investment because it enabled me to wear so many pieces together that I’d never been able to wear before. On the contrary, if I bought something orange, I’d have to buy more coordinating pieces, because as it is, I’d be able to wear it with jeans and black skirts. . . and little else. The issue of matching is sometimes a problem for habitual thrift-shoppers (read: me!). They see an item that looks amazing, but that doesn’t even remotely go with their personal style, nor match anything that’s in their closet. When I’m in the situation, I try to remember that if I bought the item, I’d do one of two things: let it sit in the closet until I get frustrated and give it away, or decide I’m going to wear it, even though in order to wear it I’d have to purchase a host of other new pieces to match it (and then resent the matching purchases and the resulting expenditures).
- Do I like it? Do I feel good in it? Does it go with my own current personal style, or with the direction I want my style to go? Maybe you like the aesthetic of 1960s-style A-line dresses, but you don’t feel good in them because you think their bell shape adds pounds to your frame. If this is the case, don’t buy them! You’ll never feel good wearing them, and they’ll just clutter your closet. Likewise, if you hate heels (or, even worse, if you have bad knees, ankles, or hips), the aesthetic sex appeal of wearing them will always be overshadowed by the awareness that you’re in intense pain whenever you step into a pair. If you ever wear them, you’ll hate them. There’s nothing wrong with opting for cute flats instead.
This is often a huge issue when you strongly admire the personal style of one of your friends—so much, in fact, that you start to try to adopt it as your own. My good friend Leigh has a wardrobe full of early-eighties slim, short skirts that she pairs with pastel-toned jackets and early Madonna-style hairbows. Her style is amazing, and when I’m shopping and find a skirt that’s similar to one of hers, I frequently think to myself, “Oh wow, I should totally use Leigh as an inspiration for an outfit!” Which is awesome. One problem, though: I’m super-sensitive about wearing really short skirts and shorts. I actually borrowed a pair of Leigh’s shorts not too long ago for a night of drinking together, and the entire time, my hands were occupied by pulling down at the hems of the shorts. Not to mention the fact that I’m usually wearing heels and frequently tumbling over things on the street—not terrible if I’m wearing cute skinny jeans, but conducive to showing my underwear to the world if I’m wearing a Leigh-esque skirt. So I always end up putting back the short skirts in favor of knee-length pencil skirts or cute tulip dresses with empire waists̬they work better for me. - Can it be used for several types of outfits? I know you’ve seen those Polyvore-esque photo sets that show you how you can make a hundred different outfits for different occasions given fifteen pieces of clothing. I love those. They’re so helpful when you’re traveling and have only a limited amount of space in which to bring outfits for a variety of climates and events. I’ve always fantasized, though, about building a complete wardrobe like this. The only way I’d be able to do it would be with the help of wardrobe multitaskers—pieces of clothing that can be worn in more than one situation. Some of mine include my skinny black pants, some vintage wool skirts in various cuts and colors, and some solid blouses. I don’t spend much time in offices requiring grown-up lady clothes, but when I do, all these pieces take me there. . . but paired with other more casual pieces, I can wear them elsewhere without looking way formal or out of place. Likewise, some casual pieces can double as layering pieces, workout clothing, or pajamas.
- Is it practical given my body, preferences, and lifestyle? I’d love to be a girl that wears heels every day. But that’s just like my desire to be a superhero—nice, but a complete fantasy. I know for a fact that if I wore heels every day, I’d be cursing my own foolishness, because I walk several miles a day on average. And given that my primary job involves me walking around in studios where paint occasionally flies through the air and where artists litter the floor with palette knives in their carelessness, it pretty well rules out all-white outfits and ballet flats with soft leather soles. Likewise, if you work in a gym, or you spend a great deal of your day running after your children, it’s imperative that you think about what clothing you can wear to make all this as painless as possible. This isn’t to say at all that you can’t (or shouldn’t) care about how you look when you’re engaged in any of these activities. But like we agreed above, if you’re uncomfortable in what you’re wearing, you won’t be happy at all.
Do any of you have any other thoughts? I’m really curious to know what affects your clothing purchase decisions. Comment below. Talk amongst yourselves!
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