hot mama
I have this obsession with opening my closet one day to find the perfect wardrobe.
The perfect wardrobe is one in which any three items, selected at random, look perfect together.
The perfect wardrobe consists of garments that came to me through a bizarre and quirky meet-cute - this scarf was not simply selected from the rack at TJ Maxx, but unearthed from inside a trunk at a Persian market where a heavily bearded fellow named Aziz gave it to me for a single, chaste kiss on his cheek.
The perfect wardrobe is consistent - so that I have a signature look - but never dull.
The perfect wardrobe is perfect for all seasons.
The perfect wardrobe hangs coolly, each perfect garment in its own space, never smashed by an already-pilling Forever 21 cardigan. The perfect wardrobe is always ready to be photographed by Lucky Magazine.
The perfect wardrobe doesn't have to try hard because it's just that awesome.
The perfect wardrobe consists of no more than 20 items.
The perfect wardrobe contains a garment for every possible occasion - boating in Rio for new year's, a masquerade ball in the theme of Audrey Hepburn, a baby shower in the theme of White Trash Mama, an impromptu weekend excursion to the Vatican - the perfect wardrobe has got you covered (or uncovered) perfectly.
The perfect wardrobe makes it look like you totally know what the trends are, but you're above those trends because your personal sense of style transcends the pathetic, it's-hay-time-woman-now-give-me-that-juicy-hay bleating of those fashion sheep at Vogue.
I want to live in a world where such a wardrobe could exist.
But who am I kidding.
If I had no more than 20 items in my closet, they would all be filthy by day 2 and I'd be forced to choose between overnighting more clothes from Amazon, or doing laundry every 2 days. And I'm not willing to put forth that much effort just so I can look effortless.
I mean, I want to be stylish. Recently I made an appointment with a personal stylist. I gave the booker some information when I made the appointment, and when I arrived it was clear that my stylist had looked at me on paper -
30
just had a baby
also has a toddler
wants low-maintenance
looking for jeans
nothing that needs to be dry cleaned, ironed, or hand-washed, she was very specific about that
said "easy" about 14 times
doesn't know what size she is
- and settled on "floral button-downs and boxy sweaters." Which, to be fair, appears to be right on trend this season. Apparently all the teenage girls want to dress like moms.
Don't get me wrong - she found me not one but TWO pairs of killer jeans right out of the gate, which, I think we can all agree, was an act of pure wizardry. I don't have any complaints about her sartorial skills or her salesmanship. I just have complaints about my own profile.
Why does 30 + two kids + low-maintenance = dowdy or dull, shapeless or dated? No wonder the mom uniform has become yogawear. I am living proof of that every day, as I take approximately 45 seconds to select which pair of leggings I will wear with which racerback yoga tank and Zella jacket.
There are a lot of reasons not to give a fuck about your clothes when you're a mom, even a young mom.
1. That shit takes time and energy and I don't have any to spare
2. Nice clothes will only be destroyed by the two savage mongrels who eerily resemble me and my husband
3. Inner beauty and yadda yadda yadda
I know that there is no such thing as the perfect wardrobe. I know that closets like this one don't really exist:
But still, I believe in respecting myself enough to look like a human being who is participating in the world when I leave the house. That means you will never, ever, I mean EVER see me ANYWHERE in my pajamas. Except maybe the ER.
I believe that the way you dress and groom yourself indicates the level of esteem in which you hold your self. Whatever your personal style, there is something to be said for putting on a swipe of mascara or a dab of lipstick, picking out a bright scarf or a fun pair of shades, and leaving the house feeling like not just a mom, but a woman. A good-looking woman. A head-turner. It's not shallow. It's not a poor use of your time. Don't feel bad about taking 14 seconds to make that ponytail a little sleek, or a little messy - whichever you prefer. Whichever makes you feel like your milkshake still has the power to bring at least a few boys to the yard.
Because it does. You're hot, mama. Work it.
The perfect wardrobe is one in which any three items, selected at random, look perfect together.
The perfect wardrobe consists of garments that came to me through a bizarre and quirky meet-cute - this scarf was not simply selected from the rack at TJ Maxx, but unearthed from inside a trunk at a Persian market where a heavily bearded fellow named Aziz gave it to me for a single, chaste kiss on his cheek.
The perfect wardrobe is consistent - so that I have a signature look - but never dull.
The perfect wardrobe is perfect for all seasons.
The perfect wardrobe hangs coolly, each perfect garment in its own space, never smashed by an already-pilling Forever 21 cardigan. The perfect wardrobe is always ready to be photographed by Lucky Magazine.
The perfect wardrobe doesn't have to try hard because it's just that awesome.
The perfect wardrobe consists of no more than 20 items.
The perfect wardrobe contains a garment for every possible occasion - boating in Rio for new year's, a masquerade ball in the theme of Audrey Hepburn, a baby shower in the theme of White Trash Mama, an impromptu weekend excursion to the Vatican - the perfect wardrobe has got you covered (or uncovered) perfectly.
The perfect wardrobe makes it look like you totally know what the trends are, but you're above those trends because your personal sense of style transcends the pathetic, it's-hay-time-woman-now-give-me-that-juicy-hay bleating of those fashion sheep at Vogue.
I want to live in a world where such a wardrobe could exist.
But who am I kidding.
If I had no more than 20 items in my closet, they would all be filthy by day 2 and I'd be forced to choose between overnighting more clothes from Amazon, or doing laundry every 2 days. And I'm not willing to put forth that much effort just so I can look effortless.
I mean, I want to be stylish. Recently I made an appointment with a personal stylist. I gave the booker some information when I made the appointment, and when I arrived it was clear that my stylist had looked at me on paper -
30
just had a baby
also has a toddler
wants low-maintenance
looking for jeans
nothing that needs to be dry cleaned, ironed, or hand-washed, she was very specific about that
said "easy" about 14 times
doesn't know what size she is
- and settled on "floral button-downs and boxy sweaters." Which, to be fair, appears to be right on trend this season. Apparently all the teenage girls want to dress like moms.
Don't get me wrong - she found me not one but TWO pairs of killer jeans right out of the gate, which, I think we can all agree, was an act of pure wizardry. I don't have any complaints about her sartorial skills or her salesmanship. I just have complaints about my own profile.
Why does 30 + two kids + low-maintenance = dowdy or dull, shapeless or dated? No wonder the mom uniform has become yogawear. I am living proof of that every day, as I take approximately 45 seconds to select which pair of leggings I will wear with which racerback yoga tank and Zella jacket.
There are a lot of reasons not to give a fuck about your clothes when you're a mom, even a young mom.
1. That shit takes time and energy and I don't have any to spare
2. Nice clothes will only be destroyed by the two savage mongrels who eerily resemble me and my husband
3. Inner beauty and yadda yadda yadda
I know that there is no such thing as the perfect wardrobe. I know that closets like this one don't really exist:
 |
| fuck you, container store. fuck you and your neatly-hung slacks. |
I believe that the way you dress and groom yourself indicates the level of esteem in which you hold your self. Whatever your personal style, there is something to be said for putting on a swipe of mascara or a dab of lipstick, picking out a bright scarf or a fun pair of shades, and leaving the house feeling like not just a mom, but a woman. A good-looking woman. A head-turner. It's not shallow. It's not a poor use of your time. Don't feel bad about taking 14 seconds to make that ponytail a little sleek, or a little messy - whichever you prefer. Whichever makes you feel like your milkshake still has the power to bring at least a few boys to the yard.
Because it does. You're hot, mama. Work it.