Did Lady Gaga stumble into the wrong party?
I didn’t want to do it. Deal with the big stuck elephant in my guest room. My freezing guest room with the door shut against the cold.
The pandemic has found me in lounge or fitness clothes I keep in my warm bathroom downstairs. But sometimes find myself transitioning out of my house in my comfies. It’s a slippery slope.
So I had this standing date with Sierra, my ex employee to “do my clothes.” Hey, even though I’m a stylist I’m not objective about my stuff. A coach needs a coach, and no one better than someone else who knows what they’re doing.
At college one day I ran into a friend of mine for the third time that day and commented on his change of clothing—again. He said adroitly, “I can’t wear what I had on at 6 this morning.. I can’t have any misrepresentation of my person…” There’s nothing more settling and motivating than having your clothes organized. And going out and around your house in what represents you.
Our clothes are an artistic expression of ourselves—for ourselves—whether we’re aware of it or not.
So on the consultation day, I went up the ass-kicking, steep stairs of my farmhouse and turned on all the space heaters. You know there’s that pesky thing of having to pare down to your underwear for the “try on pile”. I left the heaters doing their thing; the appointment got delayed; I forgot and…
Of course the breakers in the dirt basement flipped (they’re older than me). So we worked without artificial light and heat, well I did, while Sierra sat on her comfy couch on Zoom. We did my sweaters, my main closet, jackets and established the try on pile. Needless to say stripping to my undies got left for another day. Brag for her though. She was off to style a photo shoot for Converse.
You know how when you’re in a project that gets aborted in the middle, how you can’t sleep? Moving the furniture around, anything that’s done with a partner and you’re left vibrating with the NEED to keep going? I rearrange all night in my head, kicking myself that I’m not just up doing it instead of lying there working out every detail.
Tripping the breakers was embarrassing so it took me a couple days to confess to my landlord, Wilman. In the meantime I’d manically put everything in categorized piles. Even my summer shoes came out of my closet. I lined them up on the landing where they look as though they’re posing— the hot pink suede pumps, the edgy black peek-a-toe Jeffrey Campbell boots, the strappy heels, many, many varieties of sandals— all awaiting judgement.
Wilman grew up in this farmhouse in the 50’s with his family of seven. I’m the first tenant since his parents died, and when I moved in his sister admonished me about being only one person. I imagine if she saw all the shoes, she’d know why no one else could live here…
Anyway Will came in with his big logging boots, went down to the dirt basement with my dimming flashlight to fix the problem, then headed upstairs to see what had caused the problem. He had to pass my fall shoes on the first floor, two racks of twelve pairs each, past the tall boots against the wall, up the treacherously steep staircase, past the summer shoes on the landing. I cringe to think.
Anyway even having just done only half the categories, it fixed something in me. When I get my clothes back to “A-list only”, everything else magically gets addressed.
Studies have shown women get depressed with clutter, and if you’re a person who shops for instant gratification or is unsure of the best shapes, colors and styles for you, then things multiply unwittingly.
If you’re a woman who:
Wants to go from one look/persona to a new one
Is wearing the same style over and over and suspects it’s not working
Is cramped by clutter
Sign up here to chat with me to see if and how I can help you
"I knew right away that this consult would be perfect for me. It could clear a lot of clutter from my closet and..." read more of Beth H's closet experience HERE.
If you already know this is for you, Click Here to read Party in the Closet in Styling Sessions with Kate.
Love,
Kate
Let me show you how beautiful you are...