Five years ago, I read an article about an art director at Saatchi & Saatchi in NYC who decided to wear the same outfit to work every day, despite having the freedom to wear whatever she wanted in her casual, creative office environment. She bought 15 white silk shirts and some black pants, all in one day, then added a custom-made black leather bow to personalize the outfit. Done, and done.
She says many people questioned her choice, although nobody even blinks at a man who wears a suit every day to the office. In fact, some men make uniform dressing a point of pride, like Steve Jobs in his turtleneck and jeans, or Barack Obama in suits of only grey or blue, who famously said, “I don't want to make decisions about what I’m eating or wearing because I have too many other decisions to make.” This art director agreed, saying her decision to wear a work uniform was like setting up autopay for her monthly bills: It was one less thing to deal with.
While the idea has always been somewhat compelling, I’ve never seriously considered uniform dressing. I tell myself it’s because I enjoy changing outfits to suit my diverse tastes and moods, which is true to a certain extent, but it’s probably more that I like shopping for new stuff.
What’s funny, though, is when I look at what’s actually in my wardrobe right now, there are several items I’ve bought multiples of. Maybe my moods and tastes aren’t quite so varied as I think. Maybe I’ve had a uniform for years without even realizing it?
Now, I’m not talking about owning a lot of black pants (which I do). The items I’m thinking of are exactly the same, only in different colours. For example, I first bought this shawl-collared cardigan in taupe in 2005. It is warm, has a flattering cocoon shape and also the uncanny ability to either dress up or dress down an outfit depending on what you put it over. I wore it everywhere.
After our house fire in 2012, I bought it again, this time in a dusty purple, and wore it all the time—including one day when I was applying bleach to a stubborn patch of mold in the shower. The bleach splashed onto my sleeve and ruined the cardigan for going-out purposes (I still wear it around the house), so I had to buy another one in dark grey. Does this seem weird? I feel a little weird telling you about it.
I also own three of the same t-shirt in different colours, which is slightly less embarrassing because once you read enough fashion magazines and blogs, you’ll understand very quickly that finding the perfect tee is pretty much on the same level as achieving true gender equality: it’s what every woman wants. So, when I found mine, I bought it in blue, white and maroon. However, the blue and maroon ones both have tiny holes now, and the company has discontinued this style. I’m so afraid of wrecking the white one that I hardly wear it anymore, which kind of defeats the purpose of having the perfect t-shirt.
Finally, I don’t currently own three pairs of these super comfy ballerina flats, but I have gone through three versions of them. The first, which had navy leather and a hot pink strap, were my favourite shoes of all time. They just magically went with everything I wore, and it made me smile to see a flash of pink wherever I walked.
I wore them to the hospital for the birth of my firstborn and ruined them with my swollen postpartum feet. A subsequent pair burned in the fire, and the third was destroyed by a relentless Toronto rainstorm while I was there promoting my book last year.
Wait, is this a story about uniform dressing or my inability to care for my clothes?
Either way, I realize now that these items have been with me in one version or another for more than a decade—the most eventful (and, at times, traumatic) decade of my life. I have worn them through multiple pregnancies, postpartum depression, a house fire, family medical emergencies, and a book tour (plus all the regular stuff of life, like going to the office, business trips and vacations).
They have been kind of a uniform, I suppose, at least in the sense that having the same reliable go-to items might’ve freed up my mental energy a bit so I could deal with everything else that was happening. Now I’m wondering what more I would have accomplished if I’d just worn the same thing every day. Huh. Best not to overthink, right?
:) Teresa
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