Minimalist Wardrobe: Approach
Minimalism as an approach to life has its origins rooted deep within my childhood.
Simple memories are strung together on a rosary of time, that curates the foundation for my approach to live more "leanly."
My aspiration is to achieve simplicity in my life; an approach that is not to be confused with scarcity. Owning and taking care of less equates to a level of freedom that ownership and consumerism don't provide. Space opens up both physically and mentally, to carve out a meaningful relationship with the aspects of life that are so easily taken for granted.
Anybody who has taken the time to learn a skill, and polish it into an end result that can be appreciated not just for what it is but for everything that went into creating it, will understand.
I believe that a minimal, mindful approach can make every moment count, in a world that is forever knocking on the door, waiting to collect. Life shouldn't be so busy or chaotic that we cannot be there for it.
And yet, even though the smooth, ceramic lip of a coffee cup is one of the first things most of us anticipate upon waking, we can barely describe how its life-giving kiss feels, because that moment is so tenuous we've allowed other tasks to take precedent, in our desperate bid to feel accomplished.
Why pause long enough to appreciate the work of the cosmos, and how everything had to come together just so in order to create your coffee, when you have laundry to do, and errands to run?
As Thich Nath Hanh says, "Are you truly there for your cup of tea?"
Where the story begins
My mum is a creature of simplicity. She has a taste for luxury and a distinct knack for refusal. I learned this from a young age, as I observed her morning ablutions from the crook of my elbow, where I'd rest my head on the rim of the bath.
Iridescent spots of baby oil would float along the surface of the water, as I watched through columns of rising steam the way she got ready for the secret world of grown-ups.
Atop a small bench-seat in the bathroom was a modest stack of perfectly folded clothing, like uniform squares of origami. The same little black uniform awaited each day.
She took the smallest items from the top, and worked her way down. From my side-ways vantage point, I often noted she put her socks on first.
Somewhere on the other side of the fog she would work a pair of sheer socks, like a filmy gauze, back and forth from pointed toe up and over her oiled legs. In summer, they were mid calf. In winter, over the knee.
I would watch their mesmerising transformation.
It was like painting a shadow over her limbs.
Next, she snapped on a figure hugging bodysuit before stepping into a stretchy, bandeau skirt.
In summer, the outfit was complete already. In winter, a cashmere cardigan would be slipped over the top.
Always a pair of ankle boots went on, with a modest heel.
Utter simplicity was at play.
Even as a small child I remember wondering, "doesn't she ever get tired of wearing just black?"
No, she would answer, with a smile. Black is easy. Black is simple.
Black doesn't make demands.
But didn't she get sick of wearing the same thing every day?
An equally enigmatic no.
How that is possible is difficult for most people to fathom. Especially those who crave transformation on a daily basis. For one who has their own, inimitable style, however, it becomes a pleasure every single day to embrace the ease that comes from distilling luxury down to its purest form.
That comes from accepting only the most luxurious fabrics to place upon one's skin, and understanding them well enough to know how they behave when cut into a garment. Once you see the transformation a beautifully crafted item of clothing can make, there is no amount of inferiors that can comfortably take their place.
From a small wooden dish beside her discreet stack of clothing, she would scoop up a few pieces of jewellery.
One after the other, the minute tower of exquisite items diminished.
The dish was emptied of its precious metals.
The shoes disappeared from their place, side by side, underneath the steel-framed bench.
Mere minutes was all it took. The fog hadn't even cleared my view before my mum had fastened the last gold hoop, and, like a shadow, evaporated out the door.
She was already enjoying her day whilst most others were still changing their mind.
My minimalist wardrobe approach
Life is a different avenue for each of us to walk.
A series of conditions and decisions awaits us at every step.
I see each one as an opportunity for refinement.
Though my aspiration is for a simpler life on the whole, I'm starting with my wardrobe because not only is it a passion of mine, but it tends to be a conversation I have with a lot of people.
I also feel that our wardrobes tell us a lot about our lives.
Hanging from the rails are reminders about what we do each day.
About our daily purpose. Our roles. Our functions. Our environment.
Also, our expectations.
Conversations reaffirm to me that to refine a wardrobe, and to learn to live with less, is something many people are trying to achieve. For fun, I've decided to see if, first of all, I can recreate my mum's staple look from the past; and then, if I can translate that into my own style, (which is vastly different from hers), using the same approach.
Can I find the core basics from which I could build my daily outfits, that are easy, discreet, but still perfectly communicate who I am?
After all, much of what we choose to do with our appearance is about sending out visual cues as to who we are.
Maybe we're not even aware that we are doing it.
Maybe we don't actually know what cues we're sending out.
People tell me they don't know what 'their style' is, but do they need one?
Could it be that styling is nothing more than curating an ease out of an environment, peppered with items already within our reach?
Could it be that one doesn't need an aesthetic so much as they need to reacquaint themselves with their livelihood?
I know for me, a part of personal style has to do with creating an ease for which I can move through life.
As I go through this A-Z series, I'll be sharing more about those lifestyle elements, and how they influence my decisions.
A still mind
Waiting for the bus in the morning could be considered an uneviable chore, and yet, so long as I am dressed appropriately, (because nothing spoils a moment, or an outfit, like not having the right attire for the occasion), I stand among an almost deafening chorus of tropical bird song.
The soundtrack to my mornings is not at all typical of waiting at a bus stop, nor simply stepping inside the comfort of my car, and gliding along to work.
Instead, it sounds like I'm in the jungle, and as the pink clouds lighten, and the stars fade from view, my bus rattles up; blinding me momentarily with its lights, and hissing in my face, but not once stealing from me my special moment with orchestral birdsong, and the otherwise complete stillness of those hours.
Hours I don't have to share with a single soul.
It feels like I have all the birds, and all the stars, to myself.
It's a good reminder to stop trying to create all the time, and appreciate what has already been created.
The breathtaking views of sprawling coastlines, coves, and craggy beaches. The rising and falling of the sun that somehow splits open the sky in shades of all sorts, from pinks to purples.
And all I have to do is make a point of looking.
Of noticing that it's all already there.
This is why stilling the mind is so important.
My hope is that a disciplined, mindful approach will help me remake my minimalist wardrobe, to have fewer items that serve greater potential, so that I may pay attention to the feeling of cashmere on cold hands, and appreciate impeccable craftsmanship.
So I may pause long enough to think about the person who dedicated their time and skill to something they weren't even going to keep.
So I may have less to maintain, and fewer decisions to make, so I can be free to shake hands with my daily purpose, and do so with gratitude and appreciation.
With unwavering focus and intent.
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