This text could be my personal confession, but I suspect you will recognize yourself in it, Ukr.Media informs.
Over the past few years, my approach to what I wear has changed dramatically simply because I'm tired. Tired of playing at living a perfect life, living up to some glossy standards, and buying things for the woman I never was.
When the words “Made in Italy” worked like hypnosis, it seemed to me that Italian shoes were an automatic indulgence in style. Ten years ago, I was seriously looking at Baldinini, but now I look at these collections and see only decor that screams “luxurious-luxurious” aesthetics. They seem stuck in time.
The lack of common sense once made me buy things completely unsystematically. Once I was shown how to order from American outlets, and instead of collecting a normal, boring, but practical base, I ordered a whole suitcase of some “interesting” things. Of course, they didn't go with anything. I just gave them away to my friends. The only adequate purchase from that period turned out to be a Coach bag for a ridiculous $120 at the time.
Because of this lack of system, my outings often felt like trying to wear everything I wanted at once. I didn't have simple, laconic clothes, because they seemed bland to me. Instead, I had complex styles that competed for attention.
And I stubbornly ignored my own lifestyle. I bought luxurious high-heeled boots while… on maternity leave. Where was I supposed to wear them? To the playground? To the clinic? I bought things for an imaginary woman who drinks cocktails on the roof of a skyscraper every night, but in reality I needed comfortable clothes for walking and a normal life.
By the way, about normal life and illusions. Probably, each of us once fell victim to fashion bloggers and bought a coat-robe. I bought one too. But I forgot one little rule: such a coat looks luxurious only if the wind is walking between it and you. I took the size close to the body, and also tightened the belt tightly. Instead of a relaxed European intellectual, a caterpillar was looking at me in the mirror, satisfied with life. Now I know: if it's a coat-robe, then a maxi, and preferably wide open.
The same story with the beige trench coat. How many times have we read that it is a “necessary base”? I'll tell you this: its base is somewhere in Paris or London. In our climate, where we immediately jump from a down jacket in April to a hoodie, a trench coat is simply not worth wearing. I once counted – I wore it five times last season. A dubious investment.
But what I wore regularly was black to the office. Working in an office without a strict dress code, I simply wrapped myself in black. And only later, after delving a little into etiquette, did I learn that historically black is the color for evening outings after 5 p.m. However, a much bigger crime against myself was gray. I firmly believed that I was buying sweaters “according to the color of my eyes.” But gray comes in different forms. The mousy shade made my face so pale that no concealer could hide the bags under my eyes. But deep graphite or sky blue worked better than eight hours of sleep. If it’s the right color, you can skip makeup altogether — and this is my favorite life hack for lazy mornings.
Another thing that can ruin your morning and the whole day (at least visually) is discounts in the premium segment. When you see a luxurious silk blouse with a 70% discount, your mind turns off. Your brain just screams for a bargain. Now I've developed immunity. I look at the thing and honestly ask myself: “Would I buy it at full price?” If the answer is “no,” I calmly go drink coffee.
And finally, my favorite visual trigger. Every day I see cool girls on the streets carrying a cross-body bag somewhere at hip level. I used to do the same thing myself, because I was too lazy to adjust the long strap. But this little thing mercilessly breaks the proportions: the torso becomes endless, and the legs are short. You only have to pull the bag closer to the waist, and the silhouette immediately comes together.
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