Capsule

It’s about ten days into a new season, meteorologically speaking. Whenever the season changes, I find myself thinking about outfits and jackets and dresses that will somehow transform me, or I start looking for that one handbag that will fulfill every requirement that I have for a handbag, making all others unnecessary and obsolete. I’m not going to buy any handbags, or any clothes (except maybe a dress) but I’m noticing them. I’m thinking about them. 

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Merino wool dresses, for example. You’ve seen these dresses, right? The 100-day challenge dress, a simple merino wool shift that is allegedly resistant to microbes and so will supposedly be as clean and fresh and free from odors on day 99 as on day one, assuming that you want to wear the same dress every day for three months. And I find that I do, actually. 

Until recently, it had never occurred to me to shop for dresses in merino wool knit. I must have clicked on an ad for merino wool clothing at some point; or maybe I just whispered the words “merino wool” in the middle of the night when I was off in the woods somewhere, all by myself. (That’s metaphorical speech. I’d never be in the woods all by myself, much less at night.) Either way, my social media feeds are now filled - filled, I tell you - with merino wool clothing ads. 

The photos and stories are very appealing; women take the same simple dress and style it differently every day; some days with a turtleneck or t-shirt underneath, sometimes with a jacket or sweater over top. Dressy with stockings and heels; casual with leggings and flats or sneakers. Jewelry, scarves, bags, jackets - combinations of all of these make the same dress look different, look 100 different ways. Or maybe 20 different ways, but that’s still a lot of outfits based on just one dress. If you have 20 different outfits to cover 100 days, you’re only on repeat about once every three weeks. That’s just math. I’m probably going to buy one of these dresses but I’m paralyzed by indecision - it’s down to one of three possible styles and 3 or 4 possible colors. 

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Here’s another thing I’m noticing, though I’ve never seen an ad for one - yet. The Marc Jacobs Tote Bag (capitalized because the bag is printed with the words “The Tote Bag”) seems to be all over the place now. On Friday night alone, I saw three of these bags, all carried by millennial women, who are young women as far as I’m concerned. That’s the thing about being my age. Everyone is young.

These bags do not appeal to me, for several reasons. First of all, I don’t like the imprint. I don’t know if it’s supposed to be funny or ironic or what - I just don’t get it. Even worse, one of the bags that I saw on Friday wasn’t even really a tote bag. It was a messenger bag, emblazoned with the bold and erroneous claim that it was a tote bag. I’d feel silly carrying a tote bag that screamed to the world “Hey, look at me - I’m a tote bag!” I’d feel like a gosh-darn idiot carrying a messenger bag that calls itself a tote bag. 

And even if I liked these bags, I can easily imagine buying one and carrying it and growing tired of it within days. There is no possibility that this bag could ever become THE bag, the one that I’m always looking for, the bag to end all bags. It’s a flash in the pan, that self-proclaimed Tote Bag. 

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There’s this sweater, too. I can’t stop thinking about this sweater that looks like it could solve several of my sweater problems. It’s a cardigan, open front, but not too long. That’s the mistake I’ve been making with cardigans. I buy them too long and I look unbalanced. The length on this cardigan is just right and it has pockets, outside AND INSIDE. On the other hand, it only comes in gray, and I’m not a huge fan of gray. But the shape is just right and those pockets keep calling me. I imagine slipping my phone into one of the inside pockets and then shoving my hands into the outside pockets and going about my business. 

The thing is, though, that I can also go about my business without that sweater. Witness - I’m doing it right now. 

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Not long ago, I was part of a conversation about work clothes. One of us said that she needed skirts and pants for the office. Another person had plenty of work clothes but she needed workout wear. Yet another person was searching for a perfect rain jacket. The oldest woman in the group waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, I have enough clothes. I just need to repair a few things." This woman is probably about 70 or so and it occurred to me that when she said that she had enough clothes, she meant forever. Is that not a thing to aspire to? Is that not #goals, as they say on the social media? When I’m 70 or so, I hope to be in a similar conversation with young (or at least younger) women, and then to drop the mic with a casual “Oh, I have enough clothes. Forever.” 

And that woman was right, by the way - she really doesn’t need any clothes. I see her almost every day, and she always looks nice. 

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The thing about early spring, much like early fall, is that the weather is much more changeable and less predictable than usual, even for Maryland. And that is why I couldn’t figure out what to pack for a weekend trip last week. We went to Virginia Tech to see my son swim in a big-deal swim meet, and I drove myself darn-near crazy with t-shirts and leggings and shorts and pants and a nice top and a sweater and jeans and maybe a dress and one pair of sneakers or two and flip flops or not and a rain jacket for sure because it was supposed to rain all weekend (it didn’t) but what about another jacket? Do I need another jacket? I didn’t bring another non-rain jacket - a mistake - and I also brought clothes that were almost 100 percent wrong. I was unhappy with almost every single possible outfit combination that I could possibly assemble from the collection of way too darn much stuff that I brought with me, except for one dress and sweater, and a pair of shorts and a long-sleeved t-shirt. I should have brought those things and only those things.

I read this French fashion book once, a long time ago, when I was young and thought that the French knew everything. I remember almost nothing about this book except for its distinctly bossy and dictatorial French tone, and a quote: “You can’t dress well if you have too many clothes.” I have too many clothes. This is why I feel like I never have anything to wear. This is why I can never figure out what to pack for a 2-night trip and so I pack it all, ending up with too many clothes and nothing to wear. To a swim meet, for crying out loud! 

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Seasonal changes and packing for a trip - those are the two situations that always make me want to replace everything I own, and just start the heck over. During these wardrobe crises,  I’m very susceptible to marketing pitches. 

The “capsule wardrobe,” for example. If you're on the internet at all, then you have heard of this new idea, which is first of all completely bogus and second of all not even remotely new. Back in the 80s and 90s, fashion magazines ran pictorial spreads of "mix and match wardrobe essentials" or whatever they called them. It was always a jacket and pants and skirt with a sweater or two, a blouse or two and maybe a t-shirt. By mixing and matching these key pieces you were supposed to be able to assemble an almost limitless number of outfits. The difference between those magazine spreads and the capsule wardrobe (why “capsule"? I don't know) is that the items in the magazines were from lots of different labels. The 2023 internet capsule wardrobe consists of a single label's pieces. Buy them all with one click, and you’re done. 

So why is this bogus? Setting aside the sustainability issue and the sheer ridiculousness of simplifying your life by BUYING MORE STUFF, it’s just impossible for one small collection of clothes - 15 pieces or so - to fulfill every clothing need a person could have, even a normal person who can get through the day without overthinking every conceivable course of action (and by the way, it’s also ridiculous to even think about weaning the same gosh-darn dress for 100 straight days). But wouldn’t it be nice if you could find the ONE perfect dress, the ONE perfect sweater and shirt and t-shirt and pants, and then just maybe buy a few of each in different colors and then never buy anything again? 

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I didn’t buy the merino dress but I bought another dress from a company whose dresses I really like, and I wasn’t disappointed. I now have three of these dresses, all very similar in cut and fabrication, in three different patterns. I’m probably set for dresses for the summer. Those three dresses will form the core of my summer work wardrobe. People will get sick of seeing me in those dresses. “There she goes again,” they’ll say. “Didn’t she just wear that one two days ago?” Count your blessings, imaginary colleagues - at least I’m not wearing the same merino wool dress every day for three months. 

And I kept checking on that gray sweater, too. I put it into my virtual cart a few times, and then closed the browser tab and walked away. Then the silly thing went on sale, so I just went ahead and bought it. Now I just have to plan another weekend trip. This time, I’ll know exactly what to pack. Or maybe I’ll just never leave the house again.