Well, not literally. I’m not incapacitated or anything. I can physically cover my body with woven articles of clothing.
I’ve just never had a natural knack for knowing exactly what to wear on any give occasion. In fact, I have the inverse knack. I have the unknack of always wearing something too casual, too formal, not dressy enough, too theme-y, not themed enough, too warm or too cool for any given event. I can never quite figure out the exact right tone.
I mean, I generally don’t look horrible or out of place or terribly unfashionable. But I’m just not innately gifted at fashion. I usually straddle a border zone of in style and two years behind style. Like, I follow trends, but usually once they are so in-your-face omnipresent that they even lodge themselves into my oblivious consciousness. Like, I finally bought a pair of pastel skinny pants. THIS SPRING. I may just hop on the J.Crew printed short/collared shirt preppy thing, five hundred years after everyone else has exhausted it.
Part of my problem is I just hate spending money on clothes for myself. I usually shop at thrift stores, Target, or Old Navy. I know, fabulous, right? I can’t even bring myself to shell out for factory store prices. I’d rather buy stuff for my house, eat out, or get a massage.
I spend a lot of days in workout clothes, or just shorts and tank tops. I can’t stand wearing any sleeves at all in hot weather. If I actually dress in Clothes I take a photo and IG that shit, because it’s notable.
If I think back on my sartorial life, I had some periods when I approached well-dressed, but I kind of hung out on the margins, never truly achieving effortlessness at it. My pre-babies office job was in advertising, where most people dress in pretty trendy business attire. I was okay. Not the best, but not the worst. That’s when I bought most items that actually cost money…my only nice pocketbooks, my trench coat and winter coats, Tahari pants and dresses, stuff like that. I still have some of those basics, but they aren’t really applicable to my daily life now.
I’ve considered cornering some of my more fashionable friends and asking for a helptervention. My sister is pretty good and I’m totally That Friend that texts a photo of my planned outfit to see if I’m wildly wrong about what to wear. It’s like having wardrobe Asperger’s Syndrome. I know enough to know I don’t know, so I try to just copy others as a coping mechanism.
It’s weird, too, because I have good taste and a nice sense of style when it comes to decorating my house. And I have a good eye for quality and I’m artistic. It doesn’t seem to compute into dressing myself, though.
It feels strange to admit I’m bad at clothes. Like, should I be embarrassed? I think there’s hope for me, yet, so no need to send my application into a makeover show. I guess I just need to prioritize it, but without an office to go to, or the desire to spend money on clothing, I’m not sure that will happen any time soon. Maybe that will be my post-baby-life-2014 goal. Or something.
I don’t really have the guts to post photos of bad outfits, but suffice to say there are many, many times I look at pictures only to wonder what was I thinking? To quirky, too unflattering, too ratty, too not fitting, too wrinkled. I hate ironing. Do I really have to iron to dress better?
Do you iron? Do you dress well? Can you admit you’re bad at something so fundamental?