Clothes Horse

I’ve launched on a Marie Kondo-ish spree, decluttering closets and cupboards. My rule is if it hasn’t been touched in five years, its useful life is over, at least in my universe. Especially if it’s clothing.

All of the suit jackets, even ones with exquisite buttons that look like intricate knots, even conservatively pinstriped ones with subversive leopard-print silk linings, even Chanel-like ones with subtle glints of glittery thread, have been declared unsuitable. All of the dress-dresses, even Ralph Lauren wraps in equestrian-themed prints, even jersey shifts in equestrian-themed prints, even fit-and-flare silhouettes in equestrian-themed prints, have been put out to pasture. And all of the blouses, even silk shells in jewel tones with ruffles at the neck, even silk short-sleeves in jewel tones with ruffles at the neck, even silk long sleeves in jewel tones, with ruffles at both the necks and cuffs, no longer spark joy.

Some of these items might have successfully limbo-ed under the hopelessly-out-of-date-so-don’t-even-think-about-wearing-it-ever-again bar, but that’s not the point. The point is they were no longer serving me and my current wardrobe requirements. Or actually, lack of wardrobe requirements, because I no longer need to wear suit jackets, dress-dresses, or silk blouses.

But I still need to wear clothing of some sort and my rule book also says that getting rid of several bags full of it confers license to buy more. However, my tours around the internet on a quest to achieve a revised style, in keeping with my well-earned status as a person who no longer needs to answer to anybody about anything, have revealed that in addition to acquiring new clothes, I also need to acquire new clothing-related vocabulary.

Take, for example, the term button down. I’m evidently way behind the times, because I thought a button down was a collar attached to a shirt with buttons, which is of course more casual than a spread-collar (without buttons) that is typically worn with a tie. These days, a button down is a shirt that buttons. I find this very puzzling. In my lexicon, a shirt, by definition, has a button closure that runs from the collar to the hem and button holes on a placket. I took home ec in  middle school. I know these things. In my (miss-guided) world, other types of shirts – the ones without buttons – are referred to by their characteristics: t-shirts, polo shirts, V-neck shirts, Henley shirts, tank tops, etc. I’m at a loss to explain when this change in nomenclature occurred, or more importantly why.

These days, you can also buy something called a shacket. According to GQ magazine, “the shacket trend is about big, bold, and effortlessly cool. From statement-making patterns to functional, rugged materials, these are the must-have layers that are reshaping streetwear. The oversized shacket is not just a backdrop to an outfit; it’s the centrepiece.” So near as I can tell, a shacket is a button down jacket and I need one to be in with the in crowd.

I also ran across a selection of sleeveless vests in my online shopping travels. This was not just in the dodgy corners of ads from Amazon sellers with no fixed address. The likes of Nordstrom, Eddie Bauer, and Banana Republic are all touting the joys and versatility of the sleeveless vest. And they’re all very clear that the sleeveless vest does not have sleeves. What a relief.

The internet style mavens I’ve encountered in my journey are unanimous that my goal should be acquiring a capsule wardrobe. Wikipedia says a capsule wardrobe is “a minimalist collection of clothes that can be put together in different ways to cover a variety of outfits and occasions.” According to the mavens, a capsule wardrobe consists of 37 pieces, excluding underwear, sleepwear, swimwear, and workout wear. They also offer the dispensation that, should you live in a four-season climate, you are allowed a capsule wardrobe for each season. So now we’re talking 148 items, excluding the exclusions. While Marie might not consider this minimalist, she’s been overruled by the fashionistas. So if you’ll please excuse me, I’ve got some serious shopping to do.