Yesterday I pulled a leather fringed jacket, a hippie wrap skirt and a Wonder Woman vintage tee from my closet, and I felt like the bomb. The day before, it was a red sundress and moccasins. And I felt like the bomb. Since I minimized my closet — down to just everything I absolutely love — dressing has become easy. And effortless. I can’t lose, no matter what I grab, because my closet only stores my absolute favorite clothes.
The bohemian in me prefers to call my process #nothingbutthehits, but it’s actually radical minimizing. Of course, the word “minimalism” sounds like a total bore, so I had to give it a sexy, modern gypsy term. 😉
Recently, I moved onto the school bus that I’m renovating into a tiny-house-on-wheels with my my-ride-or-die boy. Simplicity is a given inside a tiny home. I remember being scared “AF” at the very thought of reducing my clothes, shoes and accessories. Thoughts like, “What if I need this purple-and-gold gown for Mardi Gras someday?” danced in my head.
Then I came across an article about Albert Einstein, an unlikely style muse to be sure, but someone who completely reframed the grueling task of simplifying my wardrobe. The famous physicist bought several versions of the same gray suit because he didn’t want to waste brainpower on choosing an outfit each morning. Einstein wore almost the same thing every day. When his wife asked him to change clothes to meet the German Ambassador, he replied, “If they want to see me, here I am. If they want to see my clothes, open my closet and show them my suits.” I’m all about increasing personal freedom, and ol’ Albert calmed this girl’s fears of pruning her closet. It could be so liberating! (But no gray suits, please. LOL.)
I played some Bob Marley and started tackling my accessories first. I had too many belts to even count. There were seven thin gold belts from the 70’s and a dozen of those throwaway belts that come with dresses. Only I didn’t throw them away. I never wore any of them, but didn’t want to let go, just in case there was an outfit, a costume party, a pop-up gala for which I might need them. There were so many clumped in my belt box … and why the hell do I have a belt box? I’d hung onto all these belts like a fashion hoarder, but never even opened the lid until I decided to live Large in a Tiny House. I kept three belts, each of which I absolutely love: A brown belt that says ‘Love’ on the buckle, a western-style belt gifted from a desert drifter and my black belt with a gold “Chelsea table jellies” buckle I got while traveling in London.
Afterwards, I felt so free just from ditching belts, that I was motivated to tackle my jeans and tees.
“Why do I own so many clothes that make me feel ‘meh’?”
There was a stack of jeans that I hadn’t worn in over five years. So what if they were expensive and designer? They’re either out of style or don’t fit me anymore, or don’t fit my style anymore. More is not better. My favorite Levi’s 501s — worn to perfection — looked less perfect hanging there between some True Religion denims covered in Swarovski crystals, circa 2002, and a pair of low-rise 7 For All Mankind’s, circa Bye Felicia. When I weeded out the old and ill-fitting ones, my black camo jeans came back to life on my shelf. Now, my closet looks like my favorite clothing store; as if a fashionista curated it all just for me.
Next up: My vintage dress collection. I’m on a roll, but this is getting harder, my kitties! Minimalism sounds sad, connoting images of a big room with just a cactus and a chair. But by reminding myself this is #nothingbutthehits, I am crazy in love with my accessories, jeans and tees. I decide to start with my absolute must-keeps. First is my Mother’s strawberry-patched red overalls from her hippie days. I don’t wear them often, partially because they are precious to me, but also because they are so memorable. Why am I afraid for others to see me wearing the same thing? Is it such a big deal if my neighbor sees me wearing these overalls that I wore last Wednesday? I felt good then and I look good now. I would rather have the dresses that make me feel like I’m slayin’ it every time over having lots of ‘meh’ clothes just so no one will see me wearing the same thing twice. My mother wore these overalls so often she becaome known as the Strawberry Queen of San Francisco.
On to my comfy & cozy clothes. Just because I have a date with Netflix doesn’t mean I must wear stretched-out sweatpants that have lost it’s elastic. I came to a decision: Anything that would make me die a thousand deaths if the pizza delivery guy saw me wearing it must go. Moreover, just because I’m alone doesn’t mean I should wear clothes that are depressing to me. I’m just as important to impress as the pizza delivery guy. Comfortable can be cute. I keep two cozy go-to outfits — a flannel lumberjack shirt and crochet skirt, and a cashmere sweater with dance shorts and leg warmers.
#nothingbutthehits philosophy extends to my workout wear, sleep wear, socks, panties, coats, jackets, bridesmaid gowns, Halloween costumes and the bowler hat I bought in Prague. I love the hat, and it holds such good memories of going on a treasure hunt to find the famous lid in “Unbearable Lightness of Being” by Milan Kundera, but just because I love something doesn’t mean I can’t let it go. There is something extremely liberating about letting go of something you adore. And as much as I adore a beautiful pair of strappy Jimmy Choo, I know they give me blisters every time I wear them. I must love and know that I feel great in everything.
There’s #nothingbutthehits in my wardrobe. This way, I know I’ll feel like a bohemian babe no matter what I pull from my closet tomorrow. And the next day.
