There’s some, dumb hopefulness in me that opens my closet before I go anywhere and expects to find something good.
Not just good—the right thing. As in, “I’m sure I have the right thing for this.”
Recent “this”es have included:
Going to a friend’s movie premiere
Going to a tiki bar birthday of one cool person I knew and an unknown number of her cool friends
Getting coffee with a friend and wanting to look better than I do for my WFH internet job
A Zoom interview
A got-my-tax-return-back dinner date at the hip Mexican bar where I once saw a Haim
I haven’t had the right thing for these or any event in years.
So while I appreciate that hope springs eternal in my brain, I do wonder why it does.
To find out, I tried switching things up for a week.
Instead of blasting music/a podcast/my own voice every waking minute to distract myself from my thoughts, I made the effort to actually pay attention to what went through my brain standing in front of my closet. I hoped doing so might finally help me understand what it was the sweet lil’ dummy part of me imagined she might find inside it.
The answer, is four things:
1. A jacket that gives me edge
As a person, I have zero edge. I’m all soft and smooth, like something you could hand to a toddler and then leave the room.
That vibe + the number of cardigans and high-necked tops I own can tip pretty easily into Utah Mom if I’m not careful. But I don’t live in Salt Lake City, I live in LA, dammit. And that requires a little spike in the punch.
More often than not, when I’m looking to go out somewhere in the evening and look polished-casual-cool (it seems this combo is the gold standard for me), I imagine I’ll do it by adding a leather jacket.
Then I look in my closet and remember, for the jillionth time, that I don’t own one.
The lack of edge-giving-jacket itself wouldn’t be a dealbreaker alone, provided I could ever find…
2. The right shoes
I think I actually owned the right shoes—and a vegan leather jacket!1—one time in adulthood.
They were low-heeled burgundy ankle boots that zipped up the side. The body of the shoe was buttery fake leather and the heel was a matching burgundy pony hair, bordered by a side zipper with a tiny tassel.
They were easy to walk and stand in for long periods. Just tall enough to hide a low sock. Waterproof enough. Looked great, but came from DSW, so they were affordable and didn’t feel too precious to wear out in weather.
Even though burgundy isn’t really a year-round color, these represented the closest I ever got to finding a shoe that looked cool and was legitimately easy and I wore the heck out of them.
Based on those GOATS, future contenders in this category probably need to be the following:
Low-heeled. Just enough height to be a little fancy, without being a pain in the ass to wear in the event I have to walk three miles in them. I find myself walking three miles in a night more often than you’d think.
Waterproof enough. Nothing ruins your night like knowing you’re about to ruin your shoes.
Team players, not scene-stealers. I like patterns in my tops and sometimes pants, so more neutral shoes make for more versatile pairings.
But not boring. I have a pair of taupe loafers that meet all of the above criteria, but I’ve never worn them because they’re boring as hell and depress me. I knew it almost immediately after buying them, but I lost the receipt so here we are.
Make me feel like a stylish adult. The tiniest of targets to hit, but possibly the most important.
Close-toed (and probably close-heeled too). Because I have neither the time nor the funds for pedicures.
Maybe some of these are close? But truthfully, none of them match what’s in my DEMENTEDLY PICKY IMAGINATION.
3. Short-sleeve, non t-shirt shirts that would look cool with jeans and maybe the edge-giving jacket
In my mind, these are a couple steps above cotton t-shirts in sophistication level, but not stuffy. They look thoughtful and cool, but not sweaty and try-hard.
This is a difficult line for me to walk, as ‘sweaty try-hard’ is my essence, but here are some ideas:
Crochet or loose knits.
A just-this-side-of-respectable sheen or sheer. (If that blue dress were a top (and 1/4 the price) I’d be all over it.)
Tailored, fitted basics that always work.
If it worked for Grace Kelly, then it was and is good.
4. And last but not least, a signature ring.
It’s well documented that I suck at accessories. But a signature ring when you want to elevate things a touch feels like the right size effort for me.
It can be neutral enough to go with most anything, but also shiny, which makes it fun to look at while you’re holding a drink or dangling an arm out a moving car window, heading somewhere good.
I talked myself out of the expense when this one was discounted for a 24-hour sample sale in January and I’ve been kicking myself—and yes, opening my jewelry drawer, stupidly hoping to find it there—ever since.
In sum, thank you for reading and don’t let me buy any more clothes or accessories unless they’re one of the four things above, pleaseandthankyousomuch.
Yours in magical thinking,
Fashion Coward
The problem here was that the faux leather coating started flaking off in horrible little patches, revealing the sturdy cotton beneath that was the color of a gym sock left in a puddle.
I can’t help myself! I love fashion… and your posts. 😁