How to determine your personal style, the painfully slow and frustrating way.

"My style is evolving," I told him. "I'm trying new things," I said. "I'm rethinking my style for my age and my size and shape."

At this point of course, the man glazed over, probably thinking about what time the game started, or when he would next mow the yard. At the most when I start saying these things I will get, "mm-hm." At the least I get nothing at all, no acknowledgement of any kind, and I wonder if he needs hearing aids.

If you know me you know I like clothes and fashion (and shoes), but you may also know that I do most of my shopping for those things in thrift stores now. The idea of recycling clothes is the noble-sounding-reason-why but the truth-reason-why is that then I can have more of it and feel little to no guilt because all these things cost like four bucks a piece. Welcome to the "cheap and lots of it" method of finding your personal style.

The "cheap and lots of it" method has its advantages. First, cheap. It's right in the name. My Goodwill store recently had a price increase, so now most items are $4.99, up from $4.69. But as always you can look for the tag color of the day and get half off. The idea of buying something at full retail on a whim is a dangerous way to try out an item to see if it works with your style. Under five bucks seems like a safer bet. 

The other advantage is lots. Drawers full of tee shirts, stacks of jeans, jackets galore. Dresses, sweaters, and tops filling closets (yes multiple), just waiting for the perfect occasion. Brand name everything, some even bought with the original tags still intact. I have actually said this out loud: these are things I would never pay full price for! Such a savings!

However, advantages can sometimes turn to disadvantages. I have bought "cheap" thrift store clothes and brought them home to find moth holes, stained pits, and loose buttons. So those inexpensive items end up costing me time to repair, or they get tossed. May as well take a five dollar bill out of my wallet and throw it in the garbage with the used coffee grounds. 

"Lots" has begun to bother me, too. It feels a bit like hoarding. In the cold light of day that sweater that I got because it was a color that suited me isn't really a shape I even like. It's downright unflattering, when I'm honest about it. The acid test has been that if I have put it on and taken it off a few times, it's just going to go back on the stack until it is pushed to the bottom and forgotten. Another waste of time and money.

What has brought this on recently has been some interesting content I ran across on YouTube and TikTok. Some are calling this "slow fashion," which is all about not shopping to fill up a closet, but instead wearing what you have. The emphasis is on finding your style so that you can evaluate the things you own and narrow down what fits your style and what doesn't. This should inform your decisions when you decide to buy something new. 

I love this concept because it is "thrifty" in the sense that you can learn new ways to put outfits together using what you already own, and it is personality-driven so you own your unique style. 

Another content creator I like has developed a method for defining your style, which is now all over the interwebs - your three style words. I learned about the three style words from the slow fashion vlogger, and tracked down the account on TikTok. I watched video after video on how to find your words, celebrity examples, shopping tips, and so on. It was simple but brilliant. I was going to go all in.

Some examples of three style words were classic/minimal/undone, oversized/tailored/quirky, retro/playful/classic. So I started thinking. And by thinking you absolutely know that means obsessing. What are my three words? What are they? 

And this is where the wheels came off the Polly bus. I was once again staring down the fact that I have serious trouble knowing who I am. 

When I think about it, this is one of the big reasons why my closet is stuffed with all kinds of things that are weirdly disjointed. Different styles, eras, colors, patterns, shapes... it's a closet with multiple personalities, and maybe none of them are actually mine. 

One of the exercises that was recommended was to look at items in your wardrobe that you wear constantly and see what they have in common. I didn't follow the advice exactly to the letter, which was to pull everything out of the closet and sort based on most worn and loved, least worn but still loved, and least worn and hated. It's not a bad idea, but knowing myself it would have made me more anxious and ashamed to have all that before my eyes. It was too much. I had begun a sort of closet purge anyway, and had a pile of "donate back" things, mainly items that I put on and took right back off, realized I had done it several times before and decided "no more." That pile is growing.  

I do have a certain set of things that I reach for all the time that don't make me feel bad about myself (this is Polly-speak for "things that make you feel good when you wear them."). I took note of shapes, silhouettes, textures and patterns. There were some common themes. Mostly they were things that fit me, didn't emphasize any lumps or bumps, weren't uncomfortable, and had some little "something" that made them unique. 

I also decided to look back at pictures of myself - recent or from the past - identifying outfits that I liked or disliked and analyzing reasons why. This revealed a bit of a lifelong identity crisis: I was often photographed at events wearing something "new" that was bought just for that occasion. Desperation-outfits. Most of the dresses I now own, whether bought new or used, were worn exactly once. 

What was most illuminating about looking at the pics was remembering times when I was happiest, and what I was wearing then. I thought it could be a clue to my personal style. On our 10th anniversary Bob surprised me with a trip to Michigan to the Meijer gardens to see a Dale Chihuly glass sculpture exhibit. I was wearing some bootcut jeans, an orange sweater with a white tee layered under, a soft brown corduroy jacket, and a plaid scarf. On one trip out west, in my favorite pic of me and Riley at Yellowstone, I was wearing boyfriend jeans, a tee, and my favorite camo jacket. In a more recent picture of me, a year or two ago when we went to the pumpkin patch I was wearing the same camo jacket but with a slouchy rust-colored tee, some wide leg ankle pants and a vintage leather belt with colorful embroidery. In one picture at a ski lodge I could only see the top, but it was a soft wine-colored LL Bean sweater fleece jacket that was a gift from Bob. That trip was right after a surgery I had, but I was smiling and happy. 

The stories behind these pictures are much more interesting than the clothes I was wearing. So that was when I started to realize: maybe it was never really about the clothes.

Why does any of this matter now? I work from home. I rarely socialize, my trips out of the house are to confession, the grocery, the occasional trip to Goodwill, and Mass and breakfast on Sundays.

Even though I live a pretty isolated life right now I decided that what would be helpful is a shortcut to decision-making that doesn't complicate my life or clutter up my mind (not to mention my closets) and helps me feel decent about myself. That's why when I run across things like slow fashion and three style words, I lean in. Three style words is not going to make me a better person, it just may make getting dressed easier. It could help me have fewer clothes but more outfits. (Today my three words might be classic/casual/heritage, subject to change without notice.) 

I've got a way to go on this. Several bags are being donated tomorrow, and more to come. With this bit handled I can turn to thicker desires: prioritizing experiences over appearances, and human beings over belongings.