Minimalist Wardrobe: Effortless.

Of the entire A-Z breakdown of curating a minimal, functioning, luxurious wardrobe, I feel it could all be summed up with one word.

Effortless.

I suppose from the outset I should point out that it's not a desire to shun effort. It's more a driving force behind everything required of facing the day; from aesthetics, to the time it takes to get ready, and beyond.

Travel. Work. Special events, and occasions.

Housework. Childcare. Chores and errands.

Effortless dressing is ideally a way to channel deep consideration and appreciation for the acquisition and creation of garments, whilst simultaneously eliminating futile, excess effort at the time of getting dressed.

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French chic and capsule wardrobes

I view dressing as an extension of a pre-existing mindset, and evolution of style. Not a 'method' or set of 'rules' centered around 'French chic' style guides or capsule wardrobes, (that adhere to finite numbers of allowable items).

Those methods are for whom effortless dressing is a formula entirely separate from any underlying mindset - whose only real purpose is to appeal to a particular aesthetic.

It's a superficial veil that requires more time, more cost, the acquisition of more items, and therefore, more effort.

In my humble opinion, these never really sell the true nature of effortless believably, either.

But, for those who are only interested in the aesthetic of effortless dressing, these methods can be a viable pathway.

French chic style guides will have you believe you need to own a Breton striped tee, a navy blazer, and, dare I say, a little black dress. The capsule wardrobes will likely stipulate similar items, but in more neutral tones.

Either way, for me, effortless dressing is imbued, slightly enigmatic and entirely unpretentious.

There's an unassuming, imperceptible quality to it, that those aforementioned style guides have coined Je ne sais quoi, which translates to, I don't know what.

In other words, you might notice it when you see it, but you won't quite know how to articulate what it is you're noticing, because it appears to have been done without trying.

How does one achieve this? Effortless style usually incorporates garments with a lot of drape and fluidity, so they don't appear rigid, or 'up tight.' They move, flex and adapt. They don't try to be more than they are. They are also typically very relaxing on the eye. They don't exert effort from the viewer by complicating the palette with a myriad of patterns or colours. There is no nod to busyness, or chaos.

There is no viewer fatigue.

After all, it takes effort to co-ordinate the sorts of clothes that can so easily clash like symbols in a band. It takes effort to form perfect curls, keep highlights fresh, and draw on matching eyebrows.

And that effort is the difference between shouting "look how hard I tried!" compared to subtly implying, "I took just enough care that this happened to work. (But don't ask me how, because... Je ne sais quoi!"

How effortless behaves

Something about effortlessness often seems to go back to minimalism. I've said many times that it's all about the basics done well, and really, what I think it is, is an item saying 'I'm only going to do one thing for you, but whatever it is I do, I'm going to do it impeccably well."

Whereas other items might be more inclined to "say", "I'll do three things for you, all at once, but I'll only be able to do each thing moderately well." This makes me think perhaps effortless dressing is about not making compromises.

If we compare the lives of two totally different styles of footwear, for example, that frequent a corporate foyer, we might say that the effortless pair are the leather flats which don't go about announcing themselves, because they have no heels, no buckles, and no embellishments.

They make no sound as the wearer walks in.

They just gently pad the tiled floor, and as they age, they just get better and better.

The pair that would not be considered effortless, let's say, are the heels which throw the wearer's weight forward, and announce themselves through their shrill clacking against the floor. They may not have all the embellishments. They may be extremely neutral, and also age beautifully, but we know there's more effort required to wear heels; even if you're a seasoned pro.

And we know that heels don't work with everything.

You have to consider a few things, when wearing heels. The length of the garment worn with them. The length of time wearing them. Whether they may be too formal for the occasion, or the rest of the outfit. Whether they're too loud. Too high. Too much.

[Effortless shoes are never too much.]

Even if that decision making process takes but a few seconds, it's still a process to consider.

Then, to take the story one step further, we'll throw into the mix the high probability that the wearer wore an 'easier' pair of shoes on their commute; and changed once they arrived to work.

In fact, the amount of shoes I see women lining up under their desks is amusing.

An old pair of slip-on flats, however? We already know the backstory to this one. We know that you can step into them on your way out the door, with barely a thought.

This is the sort of thing I want to draw on, to build my wardrobe.

Items of clothing that can be merely stepped into, and just perform; without compromising aesthetic or functionality.

Maximalists vs choice anxiety

One approach is to ensure that wardrobe items, bags and footwear can span the spectrum of one's livelihood with an elegant ability to adapt. Drawing on one's thought-out approach, relying on basics, investing in quality craftsmanship, and having a discerning eye.

If we do that, we can choose things with great care, and really understand what we are seeking. We also become completely in control of our freedom to eliminate unnecessary consumption, vote with our money, and make more ethical, sustainable choices.

The other approach is to compartmentalise items, clothing and footwear into distinct, cordoned-off purposes and environments, which means buying in to the idea that all aspects of modern life require their own, individualised items.

Which means buying into ideas, literally.

It's marketing at its finest.

The result of this is a wardrobe that is bursting at the seams with a kaleidoscope of ideas that require a great deal more effort to marry together.

We could look at it a bit like a kitchen of condiments, lined up on the counter by the stove.

Perhaps someone only has two or three of their absolute favourite things to flavour their meals with. They know exactly how to combine them, or use them separately, and their counter looks functional, but sparse; tidy, and finessed.

And say another has a whole row of options, all lined up. All delicious, and functional, but you absolutely have to read each label first, and understand exactly which will work with which else. There are infinitely more options, but there's also more effort and chaos involved. (And it isn't as easy on the eye!)

I once heard someone call themselves a maximalist, which I'd never heard before and it made me laugh. She went on to say "I like choices. I get anxiety when I'm packing for something and feel like I'm not bringing enough options with me."

For as different as we are, I can completely understand what she's saying. Nobody likes to feel unprepared, and few things can kill a feeling of effortlessness like not having the appropriate gear for the occasion, or environment.

You can have the French Chic capsule wardrobe nailed, but if you're wearing the wrong items from it for the task you're facing, it's not going to be effortless.

But I have the opposite problem. I get choice anxiety. I don't want to be making decisions. I want to slip into a shirt that I barely have to think about, because I know it's breathable, a flattering fit, and works with any pair of jeans or pants I pair it with. I don't want to coordinate my shoes with outfits, I want them to be so nondescript that they work with everything - allowing me to only own what I need, and nothing more.

Don't overthink it

My very first introduction to an effortless dresser was at work, many years ago. I hadn't heard of the word being used in this context, and I also had never conceptualised it as a style. But my colleague was the one who inadvertently introduced me to the virtue of a pale blue, collared shirt.

I also noticed she was put together in such a way that had me assume the backstory to her mornings getting ready involved few things more than tearing the shirt from the hanger and her trousers off the back of a chair, and somehow looking immaculate as she stepped into her flats by the door and twisted her hair into a bun as she walked down the street.

And not in a rushed, stressful way, but in a perfectly on time, I'm not going to overthink this, sort of way.

The other day I was with my daughter at the playground and I saw a mother doing a few yoga stretches whilst her child played. I personally hate exercise gear worn as regular clothes, but I can still see beyond my own nose to appreciate when someone does something well, all tastes aside.

She had plain black yoga pants and a cropped sweatshirt on. She looked casual, and polished, without overthinking it. Same with the woman I saw walking along the beach today.

Her straw bag with leather handles lent a resort kind of feel to her outfit, which was nothing more than some slightly oversized shorts, and a beige linen tank.

From head to foot, from her hair to her Birkenstocks, she was like a latte; all tonal caramels.

I think I would quite like getting ready each day to be reminiscent of taking a long, foamy sip of an exquisitely brewed latte.