the mindful closet

Last summer I stumbled upon the book The Curated Closet at our library.  I can't remember what prompted me to check it out, but for the past few years I have been working toward a wardrobe that reflects my changing role.  I'm no longer needing my clothes to stretch to accommodate my expanding and contracting figure; I haven't needed to think about nursing access for a toddler for two whole years.  That thought makes my heart tighten.  I very much miss those days, and yet...I am embracing my new role of rearing children, rather than growing them within or nourishing them with my own body.  That's not to say I never will again, but as the months pass it seems less and less likely.  So! Slowly, slowly the worn-out stretchy clothes of the old stage are stepping aside for something different.

As I started replacing items, a very clear pattern emerged.  I gravitate toward just a few colors next to my skin, despite liking most of the colors available.  I just don't wear many bright colors. I prefer natural fibers: wool, cotton, and linen.  Most of my clothing needs are casual, although I require just a couple of classic dressier pieces for church and other functions.  Enter The Curated Closet.  I had already gone a long way toward culling my favorite pieces, and the book helped me work out exactly what rules to apply to any new purchases.  Having some simple rules in place has cut down my impulse buys and helped me to get better quality items that I will wear for years.  Clothing shopping is super stressful to me (decision paralysis), so I shop for life.  There are pieces in my wardrobe that are 20+ years old and still see wear.   I appreciate that my closet now has a fairly consistent look, and have a mental list of two or three new items that I "need."  It makes thrifting a whole lot easier!

I want to sew and knit some things for myself, and my taste in yarn/fabric has changed over the years, too.  I only really wear solids or small stripes in very neutral colors.  After going through a phase of kettle-dyed and speckled yarn purchases, I realized that the handknits I reach for most, year after year, are solid-dyed or semi-solid woolly wool.  One of my favorite shawls is as old as my oldest son, and I still love it.  It's a very rustic, naturally dyed wool.  Other, trendier items I've made have been jettisoned into the giveaway pile just a year or two after I knit them which, given the expense of nice yarn, seems wasteful.  My Chauncey sweater used up the last sweater quantity of semi-solid yarn, and I hope I wear it for a few years to come.

At any rate, hopefully being more mindful about how I choose to clothe myself will help eliminate wasteful spending, excess, and damage to the environment.  We don't really need much to keep us modest and protect us from the weather, do we?  And being mindful about a wardrobe doesn't necessarily denote vanity.  Every time I clean out my closet, I think of what St. Basil says:

"When someone steals another's clothes, we call them a thief. Should we not give the same name to one who could clothe the naked and does not? The bread in your cupboard belongs to the hungry; the coat unused in your closet belongs to the one who needs it; the shoes rotting in your closet belong to the one who has no shoes; the money which you hoard up belongs to the poor."

A few skeins of speckled yarn still persevere in my stash, which I'm turning into socks, like the ones above.  I'm using Fox and Folk's  children's Daisy Chain Sock pattern, to which I've added stitches to accommodate my large feet.  The stitch pattern is really easy to commit to memory, and I've made some good headway in the past day. I'd love to make another pair in a solid sock yarn to set off the delicate rib daisy chains.  Goals.  My Lopi sweater is moving along, too, and during daylight hours I try to stitch a little on this sweet cross-stitch project.

If you've made it to the end of this rambling post, congratulations!  But then, these days there aren't as many things demanding our attention, are there?

Be well, friends.