The strongest influence on my clothing style was a woman I worked with years ago at the International Linguistic Center in Dallas. Miriam was (probably still is) a plain-dress Mennonite. She had five or six home-sewn dresses, all the same simple, modest-yet-flattering style but different colors and patterns. She wore her hair in a bun under a white cap head covering. I was newly married and on my own for the first time, enjoying my access to the center’s “boutique,” a kind of thrift store for the missionaries coming home on furlough and workers on the center. People on their way out of the country would donate their surplus, and people coming in would take what they needed or could use. I’d often peruse the boutique over lunch or after work, looking for new colors or styles to try out. Though I tried, I never quite could land on a “personal style,” despite having access to so many different types of clothing. One day I remarked to Miriam that I was envious of her morning routine. “It must be so easy for you to get ready in the morning,” I said to her.
She laughed. “Yes, I just open the closet and pick a clean dress, put my hair up, and that’s about it.” That conversation stuck with me over the years. This was long before Project 333 and minimalism and capsule wardrobes became popular, but developing a small, simple, comfortable, easy-care, interchangeable wardrobe became my goal. I sewed some of my own clothing back then, a habit that started when I got fed up with walking into stores with racks full of the same style in dozens of sizes. Nothing ever seemed to be quite what I was looking for. Right style, wrong fabric. Right color, wrong size. When I sewed my own clothes, I had the freedom to choose my preferred pattern, fabric, and customize the style and sizing. I had a dream of someday making my own capsule wardrobe, though I didn’t have the catchy name for it just yet.
When my kids came along, the sewing machine went into the closet, and with a body varying within a range of sizes of being pregnant, postpartum, nursing, and motherhood, I never did get around to fulfilling that goal of a self-created capsule wardrobe. If I do have a personal style today, it’s been influenced by the simplicity I saw manifested in Miriam’s dresses: neutral or coordinating colors, simple clean lines, comfort, timeless style, and the best quality and workmanship I can afford. As I’ve learned more about the conditions that are necessary to provide America with cheap clothing in such huge quantities, I added sustainability and concern for justice to those qualities. Most of my wardrobe today is thrifted, either through local shops or online shops like ThredUp and Poshmark. The average American discards 70 pounds of textile waste a year, I’ve read. I figure if I can make use of perfectly good clothing that would otherwise be bound for the landfill, that’s a win both in the financial and the sustainability categories.
And that brings me to my discovery of the 100 day dress challenge. I loved the idea from the moment I read about it a few months ago. I did Dressember a few years ago (my Canadian cousins-in-law still participate every year), and I loved the simplicity of just putting on one thing in the morning. No coordination choices, no uncomfortable waistbands. The biggest challenge I had was keeping my legs warm on cold days (easily accomplished with the discovery of fleece-lined leggings). I’ve honestly never found jeans to be truly comfortable. Easier to move in, maybe; warmer, yes, but comfortable? No. And especially not comfortable since my body has morphed from a 20-year-old size 8 to its current state somewhere between size 12 and 14 (16 if the pants are particularly judgey). As Anne Lamott says (I paraphrase), life is too short for pants with an opinion. Whoever invented leggings (which are still NOT PANTS, by the way) has my gratitude.
So, what’s this 100 day dress challenge? I’m planning to wear one dress (yes, one) for 100 days straight. The dress I’ve chosen is the short-sleeved Maggie style from Wool&, the company that’s sponsored the challenge for the past year or so. It’ll be the most expensive piece of clothing I own, but I have (and love) two dresses that are similar to this style already. They’re a much flimsier material, however, and after a couple years of heavy wear (and the fact that I bought them second-hand), they’re already showing signs of wearing out soon. The dress is wool, which should help with wearability in both hot and cold temperatures and help with stretching out the time between washings. As I learned when I made some felted wool cloth diaper covers when my kids were little (yes, we used cloth diapers –a load of laundry took as long as a trip to the nearest Walmart and cost a lot less), wool is magic for its antibacterial properties and for wicking away moisture (and, therefore, odor). I expect the dress will have the same qualities, as others have attested. …But, of course, I plan to wash the dress several times over the 100 days. Others have gone as long as the whole 100. I really don’t think that’ll be realistic (or desirable) in a Minnesota summer.
The dress is on the way, due to arrive early next week, so once it comes, I’ll be putting a daily selfie on Instagram for accountability. One thing I hope this challenge helps me to do is learn to accessorize, something I’ve never quite mastered. I have a few scarves and a few simple pieces of jewelry that get me through, but I really would love to do more fun things with them and maybe find a couple more pieces in my closet and drawers that would help me stretch what I have in my closet already once the challenge is done.
But more than that, I hope that I can prove to my kids and remind myself of something I realized somewhere in my mid-twenties: people are usually so concerned about themselves that they don’t care nearly as much as we might think about what we wear or do. Once I realized that myself, it liberated me from my self-consciousness, and it enabled me to spend less time being self-focused and more time and energy thinking about things that mattered more.
Oh, and since I begin in June, my challenge doesn’t end until September, so I get to continue my 100 days at work (teaching college English) as well. It’ll be fun to see whether anyone notices (quite possible, I’d assume, since my class has to look at me every day). I’ve already joked with my last semester’s class that they’ve probably already figured out my entire work wardrobe by two weeks in. I wouldn’t be surprised if, like my high school English teacher who was known for never wearing the same outfit twice and a pastor who wore the same green striped tie every single Sunday for over a year, I’ve already developed a reputation as that prof that always wears the same three dresses. And I think I’m okay with that.
Find me on Instagram: @shelbigesch to follow along.
*This post does NOT contain affiliate links, mainly because I haven’t figured out how to do it and I’m not sure that’s what I want to do with this little spot on the internets yet, anyway.
