What I Packed and How It Worked

When I worked in insurance, I traveled a lot for my job, and after a couple of unfortunate experiences with overloaded luggage, I embraced the idea of the travel capsule.  I still try to pack clothing and accessories that all go together, with (if possible) no more than two pairs of shoes for each trip.  I can generally travel for an indefinite period with one carry on bag and a tote, as long as I can occasionally do laundry along the way.  Our recent 22-day "retirement celebration" trip, however, was a true packing challenge.

We left the Phoenix area when the temp was 110 degrees Fahrenheit; traveled to Mexico, which was even hotter, for Lee's annual dental checkup; spent a week in cold, rainy areas of Oregon and Washington; and returned by way of California, where we started in cool, foggy weather and ended with more hot and sunny days.  In addition, although all our destinations were quite casual, the style vibe in each area was very different.  In the Cascades, for instance, everyone seemed to be wearing plaid flannel shirts and blue jeans, while the parts of California we visited had a much more urban aesthetic.  So, we had to pack not only layers, but layers that could go from rustic to chic as needed.  Not so easy.

Here is the wardrobe I packed:

CORE PIECES

The bottoms I packed were black straight-leg knit pants; dark wash blue jeans; light gray denim capris; and black linen shorts.  The tops were a roll-sleeve option burgundy silk shirt; a white cotton camp shirt; a short sleeve plaid seersucker button-up shirt; a white scoopneck tee; and a black notch neck tee.

What worked: The black pants, jeans, and most of the shirts performed like troupers, shedding wrinkles and hiding dirt between washes.  They also coordinated well enough so that I always had something to wear, no matter what I'd spilled lunch on the day before.

What didn't work so well: The gray capris were so light they picked up smudges every time I helped load the car.  I should have taken a darker pair instead.  The black linen shorts, as expected, wrinkled pretty badly; in addition, we only had three days hot enough to really justify wearing them.  Next time I would pack a second pair of capris or a lightweight skirt instead.  And the white cotton camp shirt was a big disappointment.  I bought it new from Chadwick's of Boston specifically for this trip, and the first time I washed it, it wrinkled worse than any garment I've ever owned (much worse even than linen).  After that first wash I ironed it twice but never got all the wrinkles out.  It wrinkled when packed; it wrinkled when worn; it wrinkled worse every time it was washed.  The white campshirt idea was perfect for this trip, but this particular item didn't live up to its promise.  (I will be writing a stern review at the retailer's website.)

THIRD LAYERS

The outer layers I brought along were a burgundy faux leather moto jacket, a heavy black hoodie, a black cashmere crewneck pullover, a black cotton cardigan, a quilted black vest, and a burgundy and black ombre scarf.

What worked: The hoodie was my go-to outerwear on chilly days in rural Washington.  I wore the burgundy moto jacket on rainy days and when I needed to look a little dressier.  I wore the cashmere crewneck by itself as a top and as a third layer over one of the collared shirts when I didn't quite need a jacket.  I wore the cotton cardigan in air-conditioned restaurants and tourist attractions throughout California.

What didn't: I never wore the vest or the scarf.  Whenever it was cold enough to wear the vest by itself, I wanted additional cover for my arms as well as my torso.  I would have worn the blanket scarf by itself if we had had colder weather in California, or over my other layers if the temp in Oregon or Washington had droppped another 10 degrees, but that was not the case.  If we were to do this trip again under similar conditions, I would take the scarf along again just in case, but leave the vest at home.

ACCESSORIES

For jewelry, I wore my vintage gold-tone Seiko watch with black leather band and vintage Greek reproduction earrings with cabochon garnets.  I also brought two gold necklaces - one long and one short - and a brass repoussé cuff bracelet.  Other accessories included a white sun hat, a burgundy wool hat, burgundy wool gloves, sunglasses, folding umbrella, and a white and burgundy silk scarf that could be worn by itself or on the hat.  The two pairs of shoes I took were red faux suede ballet flats and gray Dr. Comfort sneakers with gray cotton socks.  I carried my burgundy and black leather shoulder bag and packed a gray neck pouch.

What worked: Almost everything.  Bonus points to the shoulder bag for being large enough to lug around my DSLR camera and extra lens, and to the Blunt Metro umbrella for not turning inside out in the high winds at Mt. Hood.

What didn't:  I ended up not using the wool hat and gloves because the two days cold enough to justify them were also raining sideways, and I didn't want to deal with wet wool.  I never wore the long gold necklace because we didn't go anywhere dressy enough to require it.  I also didn't need the neck pouch, which I had mainly included in case we went hiking; we didn't.  I would probably bring all these things along again, however, on a similar trip.

In case you are interested, Lee packed more clothes than I did but ended up spending most of the trip in his warmup pants or blue jeans and a tee shirt, with his navy and maroon plaid flannel shirt as a jacket.  Whatever works.

Coming up - more information on all the great stuff we saw along the way.

"Even my basic, basic wardrobe is still pathetically colour coordinated.  It just is.  That is just me."  ~Trinny Woodall

The Lure of Beauty

Today I was sharing some of the items in my Poshmark closet in a "wardrobe goals" party, and I was struck by how many of descriptions say "worn once" or "only worn twice."  How could I have purchased all this clothing and jewelry, hung onto it for (in some cases) 30 years, and never used it?

I blame the Lure of Beauty.

I'll bet you know what I mean.  The color, the fabric, the design was just so amazing I had to buy whatever it was.  The feel of the soft silk!  The saturated colors in the paisley print!  The stunning asymmetrical neckline!  Then when I took it home, it didn't go with anything else I owned.  Or it was gorgeous, but not really cut right for my body.  Or, in the case of my most recent wardrobe mistake, I realized too late that I don't feel comfortable displaying my booty in maroon pants, even though they're well cut and go with most of my other things.  Beauty on the hanger or in the jewelry case doesn't always translate to wearable.

When I was an insurance executive in New York, I could afford to buy clothing and accessories I wore only occasionally (or never).  With retirement staring me in the face, that is no longer the case.  Now before I buy something, it has to pass through these filters:

• Is it an item I really need?  Does it fill a gap in my wardrobe AND do I anticipate wearing it frequently? 
• Do the color and style flatter me and coordinate with the rest of my things?
• Does it fit my body really well, or can I have it tailored cost-effectively?
• Will it be easy to maintain?  (I rarely buy "dry clean only" any more.)
• Can I afford it?
• Does it make me feel fabulous?  (Those maroon pants were never more than "yeah, OK.")

I actually tried to ask some of these questions in the past - particularly "does it coordinate with the rest of my things" - but then a luxurious cashmere or a particularly beautiful semiprecious stone would convince me that surely I could wear whatever it was with SOMETHING in my closet.

Oh, the lies we tell ourselves when seduced by the Lure of Beauty.  Now when I am in danger of succumbing to it, I watch a few videos by slow fashion and sustainable style blogger Alyssa Beltempo, and eventually the moment passes.

"Fashion you can buy, but style you possess. The key to style is learning who you are, which takes years. There's no how-to road map to style. It's about self expression and, above all, attitude." —Iris Apfel

A Stitch (Fix) in Time

As I've mentioned before, I've spent part of the last two years downsizing and improving my wardrobe.  I did a lot of this (both disposal and acquisition) with the help of Poshmark, but I also decided to try Stitch Fix.

If you have somehow avoided being exposed to their ads, Stitch Fix is a personal styling service that will send you 5 pieces of clothing and/or accessories every 3 months to buy or return.  They charge a $20 up-front styling fee each time that goes toward the purchase of any items you decide to keep.  When you receive your Fix box, it includes a postage-paid pouch for returns.

To help determine your style, the software takes you through questions about your body type, fit and color preferences, budget, etc.  You are shown "outfit" photos and asked to rate how well you like them.  In addition, Stitch Fix suggests you set up a Pinterest board with items you like to give their stylists more specific guidance about your taste.  A few months ago they also added a feature to their website where you are shown a selection of different clothing items each day and asked whether each one is your style or not, and you can leave a short note for your stylist before each Fix.

How well does this work?

First of all, let me be clear - I do not like IRL shopping.  Occasionally I am forced to visit a brick and mortar store just to check the fit of a new clothing brand, but I was never a mall rat and prefer online ordering, so the mechanics of this process worked well for me.  If your idea of heaven is spending the day browsing the clearance racks at Nordstrom's, this may not be the right service for you.  

Over the past two years, I have been assigned a different stylist for almost every Fix.  (The last two were both by the same person.)  Two of the stylists - including the last one - nailed my style.  A couple of the early ones were really off.  I blame the vagueness of some of the initial style questions for this; for instance, I marked that I like green apparel, but the greens I typically wear are blue-greens; the olive sweatshirt in one Fix made me look newly embalmed.  Over time, as I have made online comments about what I kept and what I returned and why, the Fixes have been getting better and better.  I've also been pretty regular about going to the site for the daily "thumbs up/thumbs down" ratings on individual items.

Perhaps the biggest help, though, was when I added photos of most of my existing wardrobe to my Pinterest board so the stylists can see what I actually wear and determine where the gaps in my closet might be.  That's when I started to receive garments that worked with all my other clothing.  So, the more information you give the stylists, the better the end results.

Overall, I have been very happy with the service.  By now they have sent me several items that I would never have picked for myself, but that I adored from the minute I tried them on.  When I complained that two of the garments shrank in the wash, despite my following the laundering directions to the letter, they refunded my money with a note of apology.

Do I recommend the service?  Yes, if you are willing to do the work to show the stylists who you really are.  In fact, rating their items and uploading the pieces in my current wardrobe that I like the most helped me better define what my personal style actually is, which was wonderful.  Will I continue to use them?  Yes, but probably not as frequently - thanks in part to their efforts, my wardrobe works so well together now that I am only going to need additional pieces to replace things that wear out.

“Style is a way to say who you are without having to speak.” ―Rachel Zoe

This shoe trend is somebody's joke, right? RIGHT??

While fine-tuning my wardrobe the last couple of years, I've been following style bloggers and YouTubers who specialize in advice on slow fashion, capsule wardrobes, and minimalism - but I've also been inundated with email newsletters from several fashion-forward publications. Some of the latest trends espoused by these experts has baffled me. Case in point: supposedly "everyone" in New York is wearing white shoes this spring.

When I was growing up in the Midwest, my mother's friends broke out their white sandals at Easter (the daring among them) or Memorial Day (the more conservative), and put them away again after Labor Day. BUT ... these were women who basically never walked anywhere. They drove, in cars their husbands washed religiously every weekend. Their white shoes stayed white.

New York, however, is a whole different biosphere. When I lived there, I never wore a pair of open-toed shoes in public, let alone flip-flops or strappy sandals, because the streets and the subway stations were filthy, and I rarely took mass transit without being stepped on at least once by a fellow traveler. Had I ever worn white shoes, they would have remained white for roughly a nanosecond after I exited my apartment.

Who are these courageous fashion pioneers braving the big city's soot and klutzy inhabitants in their pristine footwear? Do they carry shoe polish in their purses? Do they have a shoe repair artist on retainer? Are they being sponsored by shoe companies who instantly replace damaged sandals that might mar their Instagram posts? Inquiring minds want to know.

Yes, I do own a pair of white sandals myself. In the greater Phoenix area, where I travel everywhere by car, and no one has stepped on my feet in years. The whole white-shoes-in-New-York thing is really some fashonistas' elaborate joke, right????

"They went into my closets looking for skeletons, but thank God, all they found were shoes, beautiful shoes." ~Imelda Marcos

Poshing All the Way

When I moved to Arizona from New York in 2002, I intended to retire THEN.  I gave away all my wool suits and bought a few pairs of shorts to ready myself for the transition.

As it turned out, I spent another three years working in insurance, and then transitioned to freelancing as a website and graphics designer.  I've done marketing and social media work for a church for the last 6 years.  This has meant buying a variety of additional work clothes.

In the meantime, depending on whom I was eating with and the general environmental stress, my weight fluctuated up and down (two or three times) within a range of 50 pounds.

So, as of two years ago, I had closets crammed with mostly unwearable clothing.  Some - like my full-length cashmere coat - were relics of my days in New York that could never be worn in Arizona.  Others were suits from my insurance office time here that hadn't seen the light of day in years.  I had more formal wear than anyone no longer attending proms needed.  And, of course, I had clothing in sizes ranging from 6 to 14, most of which no longer fit.  In addition, I had mounds of accessories - scarves, necklaces, bags, shoes, earrings, lapel pins, you name it - that only coordinated with unusable clothing.

I can't say I went full-out KonMari on the first try, but I did send numerous sacks of clothing to Goodwill and to the Justa Center, a resource for homeless seniors.  I recycled or threw out anything in too sad condition to donate.  I sorted out the nicest things to take to a consignment shop.  Then I stalled.

Seriously, no consignment shop in this area would take my heavy winter coats or my nice suits because they can't sell them; people here don't wear that type of clothing.  Most of the local consignment shops also won't take jewelry, or if they do, return pennies on the dollar.  I needed another solution.

That was when I found Poshmark.  I think of my Poshmark closet as my online rummage sale.  It's not a true consignment shop because the sellers hold onto their own merchandise until it's sold - it's more like a clothing-and-accessories-only version of EBay.  Sellers post photos, descriptions, and prices of their items.  When a buyer buys an item, Poshmark emails the Priority Mail postage to the seller, who wraps the item and ships it off.  Poshmark takes a commission for each sale (and just recently started collecting sales tax).  You can redeem your sales for cash, or use them as credit to buy items from other sellers.  In addition to selling used items, many sellers offer new boutique brands.

I've been steadily selling an average of one or two items a week for the past two years, which has cleared out considerable space in my real life closets and jewelry box.  I've also managed to buy some amazing treasures, frequently never-worn or worn-once items at a fraction of their retail price.  The cycle looks something like this:  I sell one or more items I will never wear again; I use the credit to buy something else that I actually need; as the new items come in, I put more of the old up for sale. Occasionally I'm not happy with a purchase (the instep on the shoes is too low; the dress is too high-waisted); in that case, I just re-posh it.  (Returns are not allowed when fit is the only issue - I try always to ask questions if I am unfamiliar with the fit of a certain brand.)

The most unexpected benefit of this process is that I unwittingly used it to put together a capsule wardrobe.  In the past I always traveled with an interchangeable mix of black, white, and red items, but the colors of my everyday wardrobe were all over the spectrum.  Now that I've weeded out the pieces I don't wear and have bought replacement items I really love, my closet is almost entirely neutrals with navy and burgundy accents.  Having realized this, I put more of the "color orphans" up for sale and have been refusing to buy other outliers.

Thanks to Poshmark, my wardrobe is now smaller but more functional than it's ever been.  Everything in my master closet fits and flatters and most of the pieces work together.  The overall effect is a put-together casual vibe that works for my current job and should not be too fussy for the day I become a lady of leisure.

At my current rate of sales I expect at least another two years of poshing pleasure, which is just fine.  This is "slow fashion" at its best!

Have items just hanging in your closet? We know the feeling. List items for sale on Poshmark in less than 60 seconds. Sell what you have in your closet so that you can shop for what you really love today!  ~"How Poshmark Works," Poshmark.com