Closet Contents and The Weight-Change Capsule Wardrobe

February 17, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Clothes, Minimalism, Mental Illness, Capsule Wardrobe

It’s been a rough week. I fired my therapist (don’t ask), haven’t been leaving the house much, and haven’t had the wherewithal to do any reading or writing. I have managed to exercise, shower, make my own dinner, do dishes, do a load of laundry, and watch about 60 hours of Youtube. While it’s better than what I’ve been capable of at certain points in my life, it still feels pathetic, and hopelessness has crept back in.

My latest coping mechanism is fixating on the state of my closet. For someone with a capsule wardrobe, I have a ton of stuff in there. My closet acts as our linen closet, so there are extra pillows, bed sheets, and various quilts and blankets. Then there’s my sewing machine, a box of sewing supplies, and some leftover muslin. Then an acid-free box with my wedding outfit folded inside. My shoes are on a rack set up on a shelf, and my bags are lined up on that same shelf as well. I have a bin of packing cubes and reusable tote bags for travel. On the floor is a tiny stool for meditation and a large cushion for curling up on on really bad days. I have a chest of drawers that holds my pajamas, workout gear, socks, and underwear.

And then there’s my dirty little secret: the clothes I keep in storage. This is not seasonal storage, or cocktail dresses, or ski pants. It is solely clothes that do not fit me right now – or more specifically, clothes that are too small. I am near my highest weight ever right now, and I had to buy several items just to fill out the 25 item capsule I currently wear. But only a year and a half ago, I weighed 152 pounds (I’m well over 200 now), and I spent a lot of time, money, and energy finding clothes that fit me at that weight. My medications have played a big part in this weight fluctuation: Adderall helped me lose weight and Seroquel made me gain weight. But now that I’m off of both these meds, I am hoping to get back to a lower weight; hence the saving and storing of all these too-small clothes.

My weight has always fluctuated dramatically over the years, my lowest weight being around 125 and my new high being 224. I’ve had clothes at every size in between and whenever my weight would change, I’d get rid of what didn’t fit. It’s a common suggestion to get rid of anything that doesn’t fit, among minimalists and size-acceptance advocates alike. But the irony often was that I’d ditch the skinny clothes and immediately lose weight. Then I’d buy new skinny clothes, ditch whatever was too big, and immediately gain weight. This cycle continued over and over again. On a financial level as well as an environmental one, this is not a sustainable lifestyle.

So this last time that I lost weight (a year and a half ago), I kept my fat clothes. Only the ones I loved, but I kept a good amount and packed them away in a clear plastic bin on the top shelf of my closet. And when I gained weight once again, it saved me time and money having these clothes on hand. It’s hard to find things that fit at any size, so I was glad to not have to go shopping as my weight increased. And then I saved the smaller clothes in turn, thinking I’d pull them out when my weight went down again.

This seemed like a good system to me, and a good way to tell myself that I’m acceptable at any size, and deserve to wear clothes I love. This approach is something I call “The Weight-Change Capsule Wardrobe.” The strategy is to keep a small capsule of clothes for each size as opposed to each season. 25 items is plenty for me, since my lifestyle is largely uneventful. And there is usually some crossover of items between sizes, so I don’t necessarily need 25 pieces in every size within a 100-pound range. But it’s still a lot to store — daywear, pajamas, workout clothes, even jewelry — and it bothers me to have such a vast wardrobe of clothes that don’t fit. I truly want to be a minimalist like the people I see on Youtube, with tiny wardrobes, vegan diets, and tiny bodies. But I don’t know how realistic it is for me to assume my weight will never fluctuate again. And the environmental waste produced by my ever-changing wardrobe is something I desperately want to avoid.

Lately, though, there’s a little voice inside my head saying, “This time will be different…” or “I won’t regain the weight, so I don’t have to keep the bigger clothes.” I imagine selling my larger clothes on Ebay as I continue down the scale. And perhaps this really is the last time I have to go through this. My meds are more stable, and I feel more committed to a reasonable diet and exercise regime for the long haul. I lost 6 pounds last month according to my doctor, putting me 18 pounds below my highest weight of 224. I’ve continued to increase the intensity of my exercise, limit my calories, and do intermittent fasting (which at the very least keeps me from snacking at night). I still feel ”not myself” when I look in the mirror, but lately I’m a bit more hopeful that I’ll get there eventually. And I’m eager to wear those too-small clothes up there, not because losing weight is the answer to all my problems, but because I love those clothes. I carefully considered every purchase, searching tirelessly for just the right things, and spending more money than usual on quality pieces. So for now, my closet is full, but I am where I am.

Still In My Pajamas, and Exercise Update

February 02, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Clothes, Mental Illness, Minimalism, Capsule Wardrobe

While mental conditions for me are gradually improving (I’ve just recently embarked upon some therapy with a Clinical Psychologist/PhD), much of my time is still spent in my pajamas. I thought I’d give a thorough inventory of my pajama capsule as it stands.

There are 8 tops in total: 4 identical “boyfriend tees” from Old Navy in faded blue, and 4 “relaxed fit” tanks, also from Old Navy — 2 white, 1 black, and 1 grey. All of these were chosen for their loose, comfortable fit, but also for the specific 100% slub cotton of which they are made. I’ve found that the slub cotton from Old Navy — it has a slight texture to the weave — wears especially well through wash after wash. Now, not all slub cotton is created equal. My Gap Factory T-shirts are clearly not of the same caliber. But these 8 Old Navy tops are holding up beautifully despite the frequent wear and washing. Maybe other people don’t need 8 pajama tops, but when you’ve been debilitatingly depressed for a stretch of time, your priorities tend to shift, wardrobe-wise.

For bottoms, I have two pairs of sweatpants and three pairs of shorts. One pair of pants is from Two by Vince Camuto; they are wide-leg and a lovely soft pink color. I’ve yet to find an answer to the question of whether or not these are maternity pants — please contact me if you know — but I love them either way. The other pants are drawstring, stretch-terry sweats from Andrea Jovine Woman. I’ve had them for ages and they’re a little ragged, but certainly doing the job. For shorts, I have 2 pairs of Old Navy cotton poplin sleep shorts with a ribbon drawstring waist. Both are crisp white with a print: one pink paisley and one blue geometric. The third pair of shorts is a real oldie but goodie — a men’s pair of XXL jersey pants that have been cut off into shorts. I’ve had them for quite some time — Russell Athletic is made to last — and I don’t see much wear at all aside from a bit of fading. Sometimes I layer a pair of pants over my shorts to hang around the house and then just wear the shorts to sleep in.

Three more items complete the capsule — 16 pieces in all? — a hoodie in black lightweight terry from Cable and Gauge, and a grey textured pullover hoodie from Lou and Grey by LOFT. Both are great for layering as loungewear, especially when you need to answer the door sans bra. And a pair of fleece slippers from Lands’ End.

Speaking of braless activities, my exercise routine has continued to improve and, more importantly, exist. I’m still wearing my pajama tops to the gym with a zip-up fleece over the top, and that little bit of time saved from putting a bra on has proved crucial to my continued progress.

Tagging along with my husband on his gym visits is working well, and I’ve actually increased my weights so it takes more effort to power through. Weight lifting in general has always seemed like a lazy activity compared to running — I mean, you’re sitting down much of the time. But upping the weight does get my heart pounding between sets. When at the gym, we do 3 or 4 machines, 3 sets each, alternating lats-biceps-back-legs or chest-triceps-legs depending on the day. More machines than that would probably be too many for my level of mojo, so we leave it at that and walk on the treadmill for a few minutes. We started out slow, at 2.5 with no incline for 7 minutes, and I’ve worked my way up to 3.0 at an incline of 4 for 10 minutes. On days we don’t go to the gym, I just walk on our treadmill at home, also at 3.0 with an incline of 4 for 20 minutes and call it a day.

The plan is to continue increasing the intensity of my workouts so slowly that I hardly notice a thing. For instance, next will be an incline of 5 or 6, and then maybe an increase of speed to 3.2, making a change each week until I’m walking uphill at a good clip. This is where it’ll get exciting for me: after walking at a steep incline for so long, I’ll start building in a little running on a flat plane. I’ve been agonizing over the idea of running, since it’s always been my go-to for weight loss, but it has felt impossible with my current mood and flagging fitness level. Hopefully, it’ll just work in seamlessly with this strategy (my husband says that after the incline, running flat is a breeze for him), and I’ll be back up to speed in no time. The major hurdle will be wrestling into a sports bra in order to do it.

My Habit Tracker and My Scarves

January 29, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Mental Illness, Clothes, Minimalism, Capsule Wardrobe

I started a bullet journal last year after hearing all about them on Youtube. Doubling as both a calendar and an ongoing to-do list, I discovered some other features that have proved quite useful. A bullet journal is great for all kinds of lists, like “All the Books I Want To Read This Year,” or “All the Clothes I Need for My Capsule Wardrobe.” But my favorite function of the bullet journal has to be the Habit Tracker. It’s not complicated; it’s basically just a chart with a row for each habit you want to do and a column for each day of the month. Habit completed; check box. For some people this may sound unnecessary or a little too Type-A, but I’ve adopted it as a way to track all the little things I do every day. If you’re battling depression like I am, it’s a great way to give yourself credit for everything you’re able to achieve, and to not take anything for granted.

Some items on my list:

Take pills
Shower
Wash dishes
Exercise
Brush teeth
Listen to audio book

There are days with lots of check marks and extra activities written in as well. But there are also days when all I’ve checked off is “Take pills.” For me, the idea is to recognize that each one of these tasks is an accomplishment, not an expectation. Because sometimes as I start to get better and my depression begins to lift, I simultaneously increase my expectations for myself and forget how far I’ve come. It also feels good to have a record of how I spend my days, especially for those times when I yell at myself for not accomplishing enough.

A big part of coping with my depression involves grieving for the loss of time. I look back at years of my life and am filled with regret for all the things I didn’t get to do. I want that time back. I want to hurry up and “make up for lost time.” I panic at the thought of how far off track I am, wondering if I’ll ever be able to get back on. This is where patience is key: the Habit Tracker helps me break everything down into small, achievable steps. It reminds me to be patient, slow down, and keep building. It tells me to celebrate small victories and be gentle with myself in defeat. Today, I exercised. Today, I went to the doctor. Today, I got dressed.

Today I wore my favorite winter scarf- it’s a chunky, oversized, cable-knit scarf in grey cashmere. It’s extremely long and wraps around twice so that I’m bundled up to my eyeballs on cold days. After pinning numerous images of chunky scarves on Pinterest, I went onto Thredup to look for something to fit the bill. This one was less than $20 and pre-loved, but it is 100% cashmere and says “Cruciani” on the label. (No idea who Cruciani is, but it sounds Italian, and therefore, luxurious.) It’s perfect to slouch around my shoulders when in drafty coffee shops or wrap around twice in cold weather. I do have another winter scarf for less extreme weather; it’s a blush Calvin Klein logo scarf that I like to wrap once around my neck and then tuck an end under in front to cover that gap beneath my neck. I wear it under my coat and then leave it on indoors, too, for a subtle bit of color with whatever I’m wearing.

For more formal occasions, I have two beautiful scarves that were gifts from my mother-in-law. One is a delicate silk rectangle with a large-scale floral on a black background; the brand is Old Shanghai. The other is a huge square of turquoise velvet with a burnout floral pattern; I’ve worn it as a shawl over an all-black look for dressy nights out. It’s from The Metropolitan Museum of Art gift shop; they have really beautiful things if you’ve never checked it out.

I even have a couple of scarves for spring and summer. One is a sheer, white, woven frothy thing that looks great with my khaki anorak jacket. The other I made from some remnant material from a duvet cover I was altering at the time. The fabric is stiff for a scarf- it’s a blush, woven cotton with a damask pattern in gold- but it was far too lovely to be thrown away. I’ve never seen a scarf quite like it, but I love the way it layers with more revealing summer clothes.

Is six scarves too many? Maybe, but I do love (and wear) them all. I love the slouchy look of a scarf; it’s an unexpected alternative to jewelry- a softer, subtler accessory. Wearing one makes me feel protected, more self-possessed, gentler. It adds color and texture to my otherwise monochromatic wardrobe. It covers me up without drowning me in fabric, making me feel modest yet modern.

The White T-Shirt Disaster and Deodorant Safety

January 26, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Clothes, Minimalism

I wear a T-shirt every day, and since downsizing to just five, each one must do its part. So when I went to wear my only white T-shirt and discovered dark grey stains all over the armpits, I was a bit bothered. I added the shirt to this week’s load of bleached whites, letting it soak in the washer for a while before the wash cycle. To my shock and horror, the stains did not come out, and the shirt appears to be destined for a future as cleaning rags. Now how, you may wonder, did these strange stains come to be? It appears that they are the result of my all-natural- and very expensive- Dr. Hauschka Rose Deodorant. A true deodorant in roll-on form, it is not an antiperspirant and so contains no aluminum. I am a great fan of many Dr. Hauschka products- face scrub, day cream, eye cream, etc. and never imagined they would contain anything that would react this way with a T-shirt. I am inclined to blame the apparently chemical reaction on the cheap, fast-fashion origins of said T-shirt. Yes, I really did drink the Kool-Aid when I watched The True Cost and am already experiencing remorse over my most recent clothing purchases. The 3-pack of ASOS T-shirts for $24 simply had to have been made in sub-par working conditions with questionable materials in order to be offered at such a bargain price. So I will not be replacing the T-shirt from ASOS, or from any other retailer: I have decided to resurrect my 2 white GAP Factory Tees to be worn layered together. Upon watching The True Cost, I concluded that donating these somewhat worn tops was not a good enough answer anymore. Apparently it would be very unlikely that they would even end up on the thrift shop floor, and most likely would end up in a landfill, either here or in another less-developed country. So I’ve been sitting on them, trying to come up with a better solution. I finally decided that the four LOFT swing tees would eventually replace my current sleep tees once they wear out, and the 2 black and 2 navy GAP Factory tees would eventually become my gym tees when the current ones are unwearable. The white GAP Factory ones I was undecided about, but then lo and behold, they’ve come in handy once again.

But back to the deodorant issue. I started using Dr. Hauschka deodorant as a way to avoid anti-perspirants which contain aluminum. While the jury is still out on whether this aluminum could contribute to breast cancer or Alzheimer’s, the Swiss have passed a bill banning its use in cosmetics. Now I still own some Dove anti-perspirant, as it definitely lasts longer and is more effective for very sweaty days, but I’ve been trying to use it sparingly in case there is actually any truth to the aluminum-related suspicions. I would certainly tolerate being a bit smelly over ending up with Alzheimer’s, so until they come up with anything conclusive, I’m treading carefully. There’s also something really disconcerting about trying to wash off anti-perspirant in the shower and having to soap up three or four times.

But I digress. The real crisis has been averted- I will not go without a white T-shirt. Fast fashion has been defeated (just a little) for today. The only question weighing on all of our minds is: Do the two T-shirts count as one item or two in my capsule wardrobe? I can only wear them together since they are so thin and see-through. Does this mean I can call it one and keep my nice, round 25-item capsule intact? Minimalists everywhere might be outraged- “Cheater!” they’d call me. But I answer to no one but myself in my clothing escapades, and in my minimalist search for truth and happiness. I’ll take some credit for rescuing the older tees and keep my number to 25. Just don’t tell them about my 11 pairs of shoes…

I Saw The True Cost and It Changed Everything

January 25, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Clothes, Minimalism

I’ve heard this documentary, The True Cost, recommended on so many blogs and Youtube channels that I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to get down to watching it. And I must admit, I get the hype. If you’ve just been nodding along politely (like me) to all those sustainable and ethical fashion posts, watching this movie will prove to be a real game-changer. Now I won’t even get into all the statistics and horror stories about the shameful garment industry- I’ll let you see the film for yourself. I’ll get straight into what you can do about it on a personal consumer level.

1. Buy ethically, sustainably made clothing whenever possible. Now, as a plus size woman I see the difficulty here- not many ethical brands carry plus sizes. Here are a few of my favorites to start with: Eileen Fisher, Elizabeth Suzann, Girlfriend Collective, and Alice Alexander. There are many more options available in straight sizes, from designer Stella McCartney to the reasonably priced Everlane.

2. I know these brands are more expensive. That’s the whole point. The actual cost of making a garment is far more than what we’re used to paying at fast fashion giants where everything is made in sweatshops. Clothing, it turns out, should not be an impulse buy or a disposable item. It should be a deliberate, carefully considered purchase with a certain commitment to owning the item involved. If you harken back to the 1960s, when clothing was made in the U.S., people spent a larger percentage of their income on clothing, yet bought significantly fewer items. Before manufacturing was jobbed out to the Third World, buying a dress was a special occasion, a somewhat major decision, and something that was considered thoroughly.

3. If you must buy from the big brands, opt for items with longevity that can be worn for years, or, if you frequently reinvent yourself via style, can be resold. Check out Ebay or Poshmark the next time you’re considering a new purchase- see what the resale value is and take that into account. If it sells secondhand, that’s a good indicator of longevity. If you simply plan on keeping an item for a long time, this is so much more preferable to replacing the item a short time later and feeding further into the fast fashion industry.

4. If none of the above are options and you’re on a really tight budget, by all means, thrift! Especially when you consider all the online availability of secondhand clothing on Ebay, Thredup, and Poshmark, this is truly a no-brainer. Buying secondhand is always ethically and sustainably superior to the purchase of new goods. It is truly a way to recycle clothes with the added bonus of preventing them from ending up in a landfill somewhere. Note: Apparently only 10% of donated clothing ends up on the thrift shop floor, so always, always try to resell rather than donate. Or else find organizations who might be better equipped to use your cast-offs.

If I sound somewhat fanatical about all this, I am! I am fired up and completely rethinking my recent decision to donate some T-shirts and a few other items. They don’t make much on Ebay and it didn’t seem worth the bother. But after seeing this film, I decided to repurpose some of the tees as pajama tops and some as workout tops when my current ones are beyond repair. And I’m going to list the other items (a pair of linen joggers, two woven cotton camisoles, and a pair of shoes) on Ebay. I’m ignoring the fact that they aren’t big-ticket items and am more interested in finding them a new home. In terms of new purchases, I’m sticking with what I already have for the foreseeable future. If I manage to lose a significant amount of weight, I’ll resell what doesn’t fit and pull items from storage to wear. If I do feel the need to buy anything new, I’ve got my sights set on Eileen Fisher: way out of my price range normally, but if I were to save up for a clothing purchase, I could justify a carefully considered item that will last a long time. And if the urge to impulse-buy crops up, I will be hitting the Salvation Army or Goodwill in my area. If I don’t find anything that suits me, I could always rescue a few gems to resell. The recycling continues!

Finding Out How Much I Weigh, and Handbags.

January 17, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Clothes, Food, Minimalism, Capsule Wardrobe

I typically have a policy of never knowing how much I weigh. I don’t own a scale, and when I’m weighed at the doctor’s office, I ask not to be told my weight. I just don’t look at the number. With the prevalence of eating disorders in this country, most doctors and nurses comply without a second thought. If they do question it, I simply tell them that it’s detrimental to my mental health to know my weight. That usually ends the discussion. But over the past few months, I have weaned off of medication that caused weight gain. I’ve also drastically reduced the amount of food I’m eating in a day in an attempt to lose some excess weight. Progress has appeared to be exceedingly slow, at least according to how my clothes fit and how I look in the mirror. Out of a desperate curiosity, I asked my husband to tell me the number written down in my most recent psychiatrist’s appointment. How much has my weight gone down in the past 4-5 months of coming off the meds and eating less? I hoped to be pleasantly surprised, but I was not. The shocking truth: 12 pounds. I started around 224, and now am about 212. Deep breath. Now I see nothing wrong with anyone else being this weight- I see beautiful plus-size women who weigh more than me all the time. But I can’t help feeling a deep discomfort with my body at this size. I like to think it’s not for the superficial reasons: society’s unreasonable standards for women’s bodies, etc. I like to think it’s a more subtle “preference” to be closer to the weight I was for so many years- 140 or 150 pounds. A desire to feel comfortable in my own skin, to feel more athletic, less self-conscious. Am I just kidding myself? Am I every bit as shallow as I fear I am? And 12 pounds is nothing to sneeze at- that’s three-quarters of a pound a week, and I’ve been getting very little exercise and rarely leaving the house. I know that slow weight loss is ideal for long-term results, and I am 40 years old. My metabolism is not exactly that of a spring chicken. But it still seems painfully slow for the amount of effort I’ve put out. In addition to limiting my calories, I’m doing “intermittent fasting,” a new thing my doctor told me about where you limit the number of hours per day in which you eat. It’s supposed to be heart-healthy and good for weight loss. So this discovery of my current weight is enough of a disappointment to send me into a binge, cancelling out what little progress I’ve made. Clearly I’m not as body-positive as I had hoped. I told myself when I bought my current plus-size clothes that I would “see where my weight ends up.” At what point did I adopt this thin-or-die attitude? Was it finding out my weight that was the problem, or was this attitude what provoked me to ask? I squelched the urge to overeat and decided to keep my head down, keep calm, and carry on.

One purchase I made for my current plus-size wardrobe was a new crossbody bag. As I’m sure other plus size women know, a crossbody strap has to be a certain length to be comfortable. I myself was surprised to find one day that my purse was too small- I was in danger of strangulation-by-purse. Out of respect for my new body, I purchased a new bag with a longer strap at TJ Maxx. It’s a black leather Margot bag with one large zippered pouch and one outside flap pocket. While the strap length is quite accommodating, I’m finding the lack of structure to the bag incredibly frustrating. Despite several inner pockets, everything I own ends up in a pile at the bottom of the bag. It’s difficult to find anything, and it makes it seem like I’m carrying around the proverbial kitchen sink and everything else. After a few weeks of dealing with this frustration, I’ve gone back to my old bag, just hanging it on my shoulder instead. It’s structured much like a camera bag with 2 top zippers and a zippered pouch under the flap. There are compartments galore and it feels like walking around with a tiny, very efficient filing cabinet at my fingertips. The bag is soft navy leather, and it was a thrift-store find for $7. The brand is Aurielle, not a very sought-after name, but I’ve searched and searched and found nothing as compact and convenient in my price range (which is about $7). So now I carry a shoulder bag; big deal. I can find things immediately because they stay where I left them.

I’m clearly not a big handbag person, and only own three other bags. One is an enormous faux-leather black tote with a top zipper from Adrienne Vittadini (another common TJ’s brand). And then there’s the small, blush, faux leather clutch from ASOS. Purchased for my wedding, it has an oversized silver button with a magnetized snap closure. I also own a little army pouch from the Army Navy store that I’ve had since high school. It is so convenient for long walks when all you need is a phone and some cash. And- oh, wait! I have a backpack, too. The Victorinox Cadet in black is extremely durable - my husband’s Victorinox backpack has lasted over a decade - and is the perfect size to fit under an airplane seat with a laptop and sweater inside. It even has side pouches for a water bottle and a packet of tissues.

I find it reassuring, somehow, to continue carrying all my usual bags despite my significant weight gain. Like with shoes, I feel some essential part of my identity remains intact, even as the rest of my wardrobe changes. Aside from the crossbody-now-shoulder bag, I also love and use all the rest: clutch for dressing up, tote for hitting the cafe (laptop in tow), backpack for travel, and army pouch for walking our nearby bikepath. It’s a decidedly minimalist collection; the Margot handbag is already listed on Ebay.

Dissolving Capsules, and Workout Updates

January 12, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Clothes, Minimalism, Mental Illness

There’s been some gray area for me lately between capsules: my pajamas and workout gear are frequently overlapping, and both categories are seeping into my daytime wear. Now there have been many days where I’ve neglected to change into “real” clothes and just worn my pajamas all day. But I usually keep my workout wear and pajamas strictly separate. Blue pocket tees (4 of them) are for sleep, and gray tees (also 4) are for working out. But there has been a new development in my workout routine (or lack thereof) which is blurring those lines.

I had been walking on the treadmill in my office for an hour at a time rather sporadically over the past month or so. But then things ground to a halt once again and I barely moved beyond the couch or bed. I was overwhelmed at the thought of getting dressed in workout clothes, working out for a full hour, and then having to shower and wash said clothes.

I decided all of this would change on the first of the year, joining in the most cliched New Year’s Resolution there is: to start exercising every day. I decided to do a 30-day Yoga Challenge, and in addition would do one of the preset programs on the treadmill every day. I prepared, I researched, I laid out clothes. And on New Year’s Day, I did yoga. Now, I’ve done a good amount of yoga in my life. I’m experienced in working the classic poses. But being well over 200 lbs right now, I found yoga very, very different from when I was thin. My knees hurt, which is always a bad thing. I didn’t have the strength to hold myself up in downward dog or plank pose. And I had to keep stopping and resting during the warrior poses; my legs were shaking from bearing my body weight.

I finished the video 30 minutes later, despondent and hysterically crying. I felt so angry at this 90 lb waif touting “beginner” yoga with no regard for the fact that her students might not be 90 lbs as well. I flopped into bed and cried to my husband, a former ballet dancer, and he agreed that yoga teachers in general don’t seem to know how to teach people who are heavy, inflexible, or not already aware of their specific alignment needs. He talked me down, and suggested I rethink my fitness routine. We talked it over, and I decided I’d go with him to the gym every day where he works out for 15-20 minutes. He’d adjust the weights for me as we took turns on the machines, and we’d walk on the treadmills for 7 minutes. It was hard to see the point of such an easy workout, but a week into it, I’m starting to see the point. I’m way less overwhelmed at the thought of exercise, especially since the plan is to gradually increase the intensity without extending the time. So far, I know it’s definitely better than what I was doing before: absolutely nothing. It’s also getting me out of the house without really having to interact with other humans, a nice bonus. I just keep my hat and headphones on and never, ever make eye contact.

I think part of what’s working for me is:

I don’t bother wearing a bra- just a heavy fleece over my T-shirt
I wear my pajama T-shirt from the night before
I don’t usually sweat enough to warrant a shower
My workout pants can go a few days without being washed

One strange result of this new routine is that the clear delineation between my pajamas, workout clothes, and daytime clothes has all but disappeared. Right now I’m wearing workout socks and pants, a pajama top, and a pajama hoodie- and it’s the middle of the day. Maybe this dissolution of separate capsules is my own secret to regular exercise. Perhaps allowing my workout clothes into the rest of my life is making space for actually working out?

Running Into My Past, and Shoes

January 12, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Clothes, Mental Illness, Minimalism, Capsule Wardrobe

I’m sitting in a cafe, frozen with panic that I might see a woman I know. My husband saw her working here once and I honestly don’t know what I’d do if I ran into her. I had him go inside first to check if she was working but he didn’t see her, so we came in. And now I’m in a daze, sitting with my cup of tea, staring into space.

I knew her a few years ago, around the time we had our wedding, when we worked together at a different cafe. I was a different person then, three- no four years ago. Before TMS, before Ketamine, before Abilify when I worked in an office, then left and went on disability for mental illness. Before our last trip to Germany, before I gained all this weight, before this summer when I truly lost my mind. Maybe she wouldn’t recognize me? I’ve been through a lot. Maybe I look different enough to go unnoticed. I imagine how it would be if something else horrible had happened to me- cancer, or a miscarriage maybe. Would I feel so ashamed? So panicked that I can’t even order my own tea, so bewildered that I can’t think of anything to say to my husband?

I’ve had this kind of experience in the past- the worst thing in the world might be running into someone you haven’t seen in a while. I once ran into the composer of a show I’d been in- he’d known me when I was thin and “doing things.” I ran into him and another singer from the show. I had gained weight- a lot of weight. The singer said, “I almost didn’t recognize you!” Such tact.

The last time we were in Germany I dreaded running into people from the opera. I was no longer singing, no longer doing anything. And how could I explain it? How could I ever explain what had happened to me, why I’ve fallen so far?

Our wedding was around the time things started to go downhill. I wore green shoes with an antique cotton slip as a skirt and a custom-made blouson top, both white. I had a floral kimono jacket and a small blush clutch. A huge floral crown on my head, I smiled and gushed at all the guests, laughing and dancing. I don’t remember dancing since. I still have the green shoes- I love them. They are one of five pairs of heels that I own. Blush gladiator block-heel sandals, black sling-back cork wedges, and two pairs of identical pairs of peep-toe loafer-style heels, one black and one taupe. I don’t wear any of them. I hardly get dressed at all, never mind put on a pair of heels. But I love them all, they are all comfortable, and I imagine wearing them in the future. When I’m better. Which feels like never.

Instead I wear slip-on Supergas in gray or tan, snow boots from Lands’ End, ankleboots from Naturalizer. I have some tall wedge-heel boots from Sorel which get an occasional outing and some brown “Hobbit” shoes that I wear out of laziness, and for comfort. I have a pair of low-heeled boots with foldover cuffs in gray suede which I adore, but have suddenly become too small. Can you gain weight in your feet? Well, those will have to go, no matter how unique and perfect I think they are. They’re too tight to walk in. So I’m left with what- 11 pairs? Clearly I’m not so minimalist in this area. I’m not even all that practical- I mean, five pairs of heels that I don’t wear?

But keeping them means there’s hope for a future. The same way I kept my smaller clothes. It means there’s hope that maybe this extra weight will go away now that my meds have changed, now that I’m eating less, now that I don’t eat at night. Things are starting to shake loose, starting to open up. Small things, but painful ones- remembering who I was before the world closed in on me, came crashing down. What do I like to do? Who am I now without a career? Who am I without the hope of a fantastical future with fame and riches and the performing arts? But I read a book the other day; I left the house to go to a movie or for coffee. I bought and wrapped Christmas presents, however meager. And I cry every day in agony. Because at the same rate that I get better, my awareness of what I’ve lost grows. My abilities and my grief in tandem, alternately springing hope and slashing me down.

Today I Got Up Early, and What I Learned from the Discard Pile

January 05, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Clothes, Mental Illness, Minimalism

Today I woke up at 5:20 am and couldn’t fall back to sleep before the 6am alarm. I made a cup of tea and did what most “normal” people seem to do when they wake up: I scrolled through Instagram. My new phone is the super-duper one, and it’s huge, so I don’t go blind when I go online. But I honestly don’t understand what's so great about Instagram. How have I missed out on this massive cultural shift towards posting selfies as an alternative to communication? It feels a lot like the whole Facebook obsession I never got into. Although I’m pretty sure I logged in once in 2015 to acknowledge that my husband and I were, in fact, married. In 2013. You see where I’m coming from. But since deciding I want to start a blog (I know, like it’s 2006 or something), I thought that maybe a good way to get people to read it would be to post on Instagram. Hence the scrolling.

Now, I am still a beginner, following a few minimalists and fashion bloggers I found on Youtube, but I have yet to see the value in this forum. I know that a lot of effort goes into these photos, which I scarcely glance at for a second or two, at most. Am I just old? Well, yes, the answer is a resounding yes. But Will Smith is on there, and he’s older than me. But I digress.

I was saying that I woke up before 6am today and got my workout clothes on. Now, don’t be fooled. This has happened before, and no working out has commenced. But today was different. I laid in the dark for hours yesterday (I know, I should have been scrolling instead) trying to imagine what my ideal day would look like. It always involved waking up massively early and working out. Now, I made the mistake of relaying this to my husband, Matt, who suggested I make this dream a reality. I went to bed around 9:30pm last night, woke up early, had my tea, got dressed, and actually got on the treadmill to walk (crowd cheers). I felt smug as I showered— even a little sheepish. What depression? You just have to get up early and just do it! This explains so many Nike ads! This explains my father’s philosophy on everything!

I sat down to some Youtube and some more tea, and decided to wake up Matt. He was awake and scrolling when I came in. I snuggled under the covers and lost consciousness.

 An hour later, my coffee was waiting by the bed in a travel mug. Oh, well! Just a little catnap! I only got eight hours last night, so that’s to be expected. I had breakfast and resumed my day. Matt showed me some template options on Squarespace for a half-hour or so. I ate lunch, washed the dishes, and watched more Youtube until Matt got back from the gym. When he returned, I started crying, saying “I’m ready to be all better. I’m so sick of this.” We went into the bedroom and I helped him fix a crossword puzzle. He rubbed my feet, got ready for work, and left. I fell asleep for two hours. Are you doing the math? 8 + 1 + 2 = 11. Yup. I’m up to 11 hours now, not feeling the Nike ad so much. These are the kind of shenanigans I must endure whenever I try to do something good, or proactive, etc. Now I’ve had more tea and have turned to a subject I have much more control over— my closet. Specifically, my discard pile.

I feel guilty looking at all of those t-shirts. I mean, technically, I could wear those Gap Factory ones some more, you know, until they had actual holes or whatever. And those LOFT swing tees are in perfect shape. I just, what, “don’t like them anymore?” Who am I, the Queen of England? Instead, I should keep them in my closet, not wear them for another year, and then get rid of them, like I do with dodgy cheeses. And this is where a capsule wardrobe becomes an act of defiance: an assertion of self-worth that shows confidence in one’s decisions. I will not wait for the cheese to mold. I will take life by the reins and purge! But let’s not be rash. There must be something we can learn from our past shopping mistakes. Here’s my list.

Don’t buy multiples (like, more than two) of anything that isn’t tried and true. With the Gap Factory T-shirts, I bought six of them all at once. I tried one out, washed it, gave it the green light, and kept them all. I see now that this was a mistake. I started buying multiples because I’d been burned before: I’d find that mythical perfect T-shirt or pair of pants, only realizing its value once it had gone out of stock, never to be reissued again. This created scarcity mentality in me- the idea that there will never be enough. And the truth is, there will always be more T-shirts- maybe even better than your current favorite. We must trust in the universe to bring us the clothes we need! (Okay, that went too far.)
Don’t buy anything without trying it on. OK, rookie mistake, I admit. But I thought those linen Gap joggers were the same as the twill ones I already had. And they’re the same size, and…and… Just don’t do it. They’re not the same and now you hate them.
Don’t buy anything you think you can fix via sewing. Unless you’re a master seamstress, this is a fantasy we have that allows us to purchase clothes that don’t fit. The LOFT Lou and Grey cotton camisoles have straps that fall down, no matter how many times I stitch and unstitch them.
High-low hems. Just don’t like them anymore. Something I once found profoundly “flattering” (translation: made me look thinner than I am) now deeply offends me. I think they look oddly childish, like Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? -style weird. There are so many styles that I see on other people and think, “that looks great.” But then on me, they are creepy and infantilizing. Puff sleeves are the number-one offender, followed by babydoll dresses, peasant tops, and any kind of bows.

Well, that sums up my most recent fashion blunders. The most baffling for me is the last one, where something you love all of a sudden looks wrong. Maybe it’s just age or “maturity,” but all the cherubic fashions I was drawn to my whole life (mostly for figure-flattering purposes) have rather suddenly lost their charm. Nothing to be done, I suppose, except to pass them on and try to adjust my shopping habits accordingly. C’est la vie.

Getting Back to Exercise, and My Capsule Workout Wardrobe

January 05, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Clothes, Mental Illness, Minimalism, Capsule Wardrobe

“Sedentary" is the word that best describes my current activity level. I walk around the apartment from room to room, but it’s certainly not the recommended 10,000 steps. There is also the occasional effort at walking on the treadmill. Over the past month or two, this has occurred twice a week at most, always for an hour at 3.0, so a distance of three miles. I have this thing with exercise where I need it to be the exact same workout every time. Not sure why that is, but to some extent, it has to do with not wanting to wash my workout clothes if I haven’t put out the full effort. My current “workout capsule” (if you can even call it that) consists of four sports bras, four t-shirts (all identical gray ones from Old Navy), a pair of boot-cut yoga pants, a pair of skinny joggers that feel more like pajama pants than gym pants, and a pair of fleece-lined joggers. I also have a Columbia zip-up fleece, and a pair of running shoes. It’s too cold to go outside in the workout gear that currently fits me, although in the past I’ve gone running in the snow in a double layer of Under Armor.

Running isn’t even an option right now, because running at this weight hurts my ankles. I have a fantasy that I walk on the treadmill every day and I film it, so I can make a time-lapse weight-loss video that goes viral and makes me rich. I also have the yoga fantasy where I become spiritually enlightened, as well as the weight-lifting fantasy where I become empowered by my own increased strength and muscle tone and start posting selfies on Instagram with inspirational quotes underneath. The reality of it is that I walk a twenty minute mile, and I rarely even do that. Sometimes I know there’s no way it’s going to happen. And sometimes I put the outfit on before sitting on the couch, trying to keep my hopes up, but eventually admitting that it’s not going to happen despite the outfit.

Earlier this year, in the midst of the worst violent rages and deepest depression I’ve known, I’d run every day. I found it mellowed me a bit in the evenings if I “got it out of my system” by running for thirty minutes, then walking briskly for another thirty. I tried to sustain this routine after getting on to some heavy meds, cutting back to half-hour runs, then half-hour walks, and eventually, nothing. I slept a solid twelve to fourteen hours a day, and was ravenous all the time, waking up in the middle of the night from hunger. My weight skyrocketed to heights I didn’t even know I was capable of sustaining. I lay in bed all day, and had twenty-four hour surveillance (suicide watch) from my husband and my mom. Exercise was no longer a part of my routine, but neither were the uncontrollable rages, the throwing things and hitting myself in the head. The meds leveled me into submission, and left me with a good fifty or sixty pounds to lose (I stopped weighing myself during this time). I’m grateful to report that I’ve weaned off those drugs, and am on much more tolerable ones now. But the weight certainly isn’t falling off. I limit my calories, and I limit the number of hours a day during which I eat (my doctor recommended this tactic). I can’t say whether it’s helped any with the weight, but it certainly resets your circadian rhythm. Now I wake up early, and go to bed pretty early, too. My husband and I jokingly refer to it as the “fruit fly” diet, since the theory originated with experiments with fruit flies. I believe the official term is “intermittent fasting.” Again, it’s questionable whether it actually helps with weight loss, but any edge I can get, I’ll take.

I feel overwhelmed and frequently despondent over my weight, despite following @bodyposipanda and trying to love myself as I am. It’s just that my mental image of myself is so drastically different from what I see in the mirror. I’m shocked every time I see myself with a double chin, a belly that folds over at the bottom, arms that look inflated with fat. I try to familiarize myself with what I see, try to remind myself that I’m a worthy human being with a body like this. And when I see other plus size women in fashionable clothes, impeccable hair and makeup, and joy emanating from their smiling faces, I want what they have. I want that kind of confidence and level of self care. But I’m just not there, and don’t know if I’ll ever be there. I’m fully aware that thinness does not equal happiness, and that all bodies deserve love and admiration. I just can’t seem to apply these statements to myself.

Depressed Again and Wardrobe Updates

January 05, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Clothes, Mental Illness, Minimalism, Capsule Wardrobe

I’m depressed again today, and the day has gone much like it did yesterday. I got stressed out trying to sort grapes for my breakfast. My husband took over for me. I’ve alternated bed and couch, watching Youtube videos or just lying in the dark. We did a camera test to look at possible setups for my own Youtube videos. I did, however, have a meltdown when I saw myself on camera. I guess I was under the impression that I was losing weight and feeling somewhat better lately. But my double chin and pissy attitude on camera showed otherwise. Around 4pm, I started sobbing. My husband came in and rubbed my feet in the dark bedroom. I felt despondent, yet consoled by this loving action.

I’ve been re-thinking the J. Crew T-shirts. Maybe I should keep the two white ones and layer them? But experience has taught me that buying too many multiples is a mistake. I also find the idea of having to wear both white T-shirts layered together excessively complicated.

My current T-shirts were bought in multiples. Six from Gap Factory, all pilled and worn out after six months and destined for textile recycling. And then the four swing tees from LOFT, one in electric blue that has been relegated to loungewear, and the three in neutral colors that I have become disenchanted with. The swing-style high-low hem thing is no longer working for me. It makes me feel very dramatic, and that seems an inappropriate feeling for a T-shirt, I think. Maybe if I called them “tops,” it would at least make more sense. But it doesn’t make me like them any more. They suddenly seem ridiculous- childish, even. It reminds me of the day I realized that I find puff sleeves and ruffles positively infantile. I eradicated all puffs and ruffles from my wardrobe immediately. This was also around the time I realized I hated dresses. So now I have, shockingly, no dresses at all.

At any rate, I do have five new T-shirts to replace the old ones. The 3-pack from ASOS in size 20 in gray, black, and white, and then the two navy Supima cotton tees in size 3X from J. Crew. I still stand by my argument in favor of these long-lasting gems, even though the white ones have been deemed redundant, too sheer, and too complicated to layer.

I’ve ousted a few other items from my wardrobe recently. Two black cotton camis by Lou & Grey at LOFT (the straps refused to stay up) and one pair of black linen joggers from Gap. I have some gray twill joggers from Gap that I love, and I had bought these linen ones thinking they were the same style. Unfortunately, I have come to admit that they are not, in fact, the same style. They have a more tapered leg, and contribute to my general sense that I am enormous. For the sake of the environment and my empty pocketbook, I have decided to list all of these items on Ebay. I set up a little Ebay store about a year and a half ago and I got really into selling thrifted items for a small profit. My husband was kind enough to do all the photography, so it is officially his business (though I did do much of the thrifting). At this point, I’ve stopped buying things to sell so I can focus more on blogging with what little energy I have. But it’s a great trick to be able to sell, and therefore recycle, any items I fall out of love with in my own wardrobe. And while they may not be designer brands, plus sizes do well regardless of brand, so I have that advantage as well. One last item that I’ll be selling is a black Vince cashmere sweater that I recently bought on Ebay. It turns out it’s not as soft as I had hoped, even after a good hand washing. But Vince is a sought-after brand on Ebay, so no great loss there.

This leaves the final roster of items left in my wardrobe as follows:

2 navy Supima cotton J. Crew tees

3 ASOS crew-neck tees (black, white, gray)

1 Cable & Gauge black and white striped tunic

1 oversized, silky, black tunic blouse (occasion wear)

2 black LOFT silky strappy camis

1 Vince gray cashmere sweater

1 Magaschoni black V-neck cashmere sweater

1 Cable & Gauge forest green sweater

1 purple-gray short sleeve cardigan

1 navy blue Gap men’s hoodie

1 Lands’ End black lightweight parka

1 Lauren Ralph Lauren black trench raincoat

2 pairs gray twill Gap joggers

1 pair dark blue D-Jeans jeggings

1 pair black D-jeans jeggings

1 pair black pull-on dress pants (occasion wear)

1 pair Lands’ End trouser jeans

1 pair Target linen-blend wide leg pants

2 pairs black Old Navy utility shorts

To see every item in my capsule wardrobe, click here.

Today I am Depressed, and J Crew T-Shirts

January 05, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Clothes, Minimalism, Mental Illness

Today I am too depressed to write kicky blog entries about clothes and minimalism. Today, I did not get dressed, I did not shower, and spent the day split between the couch and the bed. These days are frequent lately, though not every single day. I’ve had some decent days where I bought a new phone, had coffee with my dad, learned about using my husband’s camera, and even written some kicky blog entries. But I have chronic mental illness, and have been on disability for two years. I’m diagnosed with Bipolar II, and have tried a myriad of medications over the past ten years to cope with depression. I am not someone for whom medication is optional: it is a necessary part of my life. I experienced what it was like to be unmedicated this past spring and summer, and it was intolerable. I was violent, suicidal, and unrelentingly, savagely depressed. I never want to go back to that nightmare, so I take the medication my current doctor prescribes without fail. I have hope that my condition will continue to improve under his care, as it has already improved dramatically over the past few months. But today is one of those days where I can’t do much. I certainly can’t leave the house, and I am extremely frustrated by my limitations. I cry a lot. My husband cooks for me and rubs my feet, knowing there is nothing more he can do to help. And I feel ashamed, deeply ashamed of myself and my inability to “snap out of it” or “get my shit together.” I watch cleaning motivation videos on Youtube. I watch makeup tutorials and fashion hauls and lookbooks. I make a frozen pizza and watch Netflix. I want to be skinny and rich and famous. I want a drink, but of course I can’t have one on my medication. The highlight of my day is when the friendly neighborhood cat comes to the door, and I open a can of cat food for him. He sleeps on the chair while I lie on the couch, and it comforts me. Then he leaves, because he’s not my cat, and I’m allergic to cats, so I can’t have one.

I think about T-shirts a lot. I finally got the J. Crew ones in the mail, and they’re really good. The J. Crew Mercantile style is too big in the bust, but the Supima cotton ones in navy are perfect. I already kept the ASOS 3-pack, which are not quite as perfect, but are good solid staples, and you can’t beat the price at $24 for three. I have three LOFT swing tees that are in fine condition, but I have recently come to hate them. The high-low hem, the swing shape emphasizing my enormous belly… They look OK with skinny jeans, but with joggers, they are awful. So I am agonizing over whether to just suck it up and keep wearing them, or whether to let them go. I feel somewhat justified in going with the new ones instead, since I decided against the new J. Crew cashmere sweater. It was a classic cropped cardigan style that’s not at all boxy like it looked on the website- but boy, is that cashmere soft. So I guess I’ve rationalized the new moderately-priced J. Crew T-shirts, both navy blue, as the white is just too sheer. And here’s part of that rationalization: I once had four “tissue tees” from J. Crew. Green, pale blue, and two white. And they lasted 15 years. Yes, you heard that right: 15 years. So I suspect I won’t be replacing these T-shirts any time this year, or the next. Aside from my epic tissue tee experience, I also have Ebay to attest to the quality of J. Crew clothing. I’ve been selling thrifted clothing on eBay for a couple years, and one thing I’ve learned is that J. Crew items have resale value. And if something has resale value, it is either designer, trending, or downright durable. J. Crew falls into this last category, largely in part to their use of natural materials. Cotton, wool, leather, linen, and, of course, cashmere. Resale value is something I now consider when I buy any new or used clothing. If I change my mind about an item after a few wears, it’s good to be able to recoup some, if not all, of the original cost. And if the item becomes a favorite of mine, I’ll get to wear it myself for a very long time. It’s win-win. If I want to carry this logic even further, you could argue that all of this longevity in a garment is good for the environment, too. Whether I pass the item on to someone else or keep it for myself, these more durable items save all of us from contributing to the fast fashion machine we hear so much about. So while a brand like J. Crew may not seem to be the most ethical, sustainable company out there, I’d argue that the longevity of their garments should bump them up a notch or two. More on this in future.

My 25-Item Minimalist Plus-Size Capsule Wardrobe

January 05, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Clothes, Minimalism, Capsule Wardrobe

25 items might seem extreme, especially since this capsule includes outerwear. But it’s surprising how little you truly need once you’ve opened up to the whole capsule idea. There is one glaring factor in why my current wardrobe is so spare, and that’s the weight gain I’ve experienced this year. I was straining to fit into my old clothes and feeling awkward and self-conscious, when one day a light bulb went on. I realized that even if I planned to lose the weight, it would take a good amount of time for that to happen, and I was miserable with my too-small clothes. So I decided a small capsule wardrobe was the right answer for me.

I started with T-shirts, an absolute daily staple for me. My go-tos in the past have been Loft Vintage Soft Tees and Old Navy Slub Cotton Tees, but plus-sizes weren’t in stock in the colors and styles I wanted. Basic, boxy crewnecks are my favorite and it can be tricky finding one with a feminine cut that still fits over my belly. I ended up ordering from J. Crew Plus and ASOS Curve, and I am still eagerly awaiting my packages’ arrival, so I can try them all out. I ordered two different styles from J Crew, and a 3-pack (Black, White, and Grey) from ASOS.

Next, it was on to pants. I had shorts, wide leg jeans, and linen pants from the summer that fit me, but I needed some skinny jeans that would tuck easily into my snow boots, and look good with my ankle boots. I started at Marshalls, where I have had great luck in the past with plus-size skinny jeans. Lo and behold, I found a black pair that fit me perfectly, as well as a bottle-green oversize sweater from Cable & Gauge. The black jeans are from D. Jeans, a brand I’ve turned to for years for comfortable, affordable, and surprisingly expensive-looking black jeans that don’t have that funny smell that some black denim has. Wanting another pair in blue, I went onto the TJ Maxx website, which often carries the same items as Marshalls (Marshalls doesn’t have a website). I found several styles from D. Jeans and ordered a few to try out, before deciding on the “Skinny Plus” style with a high, 3-button waist. I found that I already had two pairs of grey twill Gap joggers in size XL that still fit because of the roomy elastic waistband. They have the added bonus of working well with my boots.

Two of my cashmere sweaters still fit, although they aren’t as “oversized” as they once were. One is a grey crew neck from Vince in XL and the other is a black V-neck from Magaschoni in XXL (both found second hand on Ebay.) I had a short sleeve purpley-grey cardigan more suited to summer and spring. Plus, I ordered a gorgeous camel cashmere cardigan in a 3X from the J. Crew Black Friday sale.

Next were coats. I found that my long, white puffer coat from Kenneth Cole in XL was too tight, but my Land’s End lightweight parka in a 1X still fit just fine. I figure I can layer it under my Lauren Ralph Lauren tailored raincoat in XL to get through the snowy season.

The only other items in this capsule are a couple of silky black camis I picked up over the summer from LOFT in size XXL petite. And I almost forgot: I also included a simple outfit for festive occasions: a silky tunic top and some pull-on trousers with a subtle sheen. Both are black, and can be dressed up with heels and jewelry. For less formal occasions, a striped jersey tunic looks a bit more special than a T-shirt and sweater (my usual everyday uniform).

So that’s how I’ve adapted some existing items and added some new ones to this rather minimalist capsule. As time goes on and I see whether my weight changes or not, I can add more items, or else take stock of what’s in storage in smaller sizes to put together a new capsule.

The Capsule Wardrobe Compendium

January 05, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Clothes, Minimalism, Capsule Wardrobe

If you’re as taken with the Capsule Wardrobe concept as I am, you’ve probably encountered a number of incarnations of the idea online. Perhaps all the various rules and regulations have your head spinning—but no worries! I have accumulated here a compendium of sorts describing a number of different methods of building a capsule wardrobe. I’ve tried to provide links for your further perusal should any particular process take your fancy. Let’s start at the beginning.

The OG: Susie Faux invented the concept of a capsule wardrobe in the 70’s, known simply as “a collection of essential items of clothing that would not go out of fashion.” (Wikipedia) Seasonal pieces were added, but sparingly. Donna Karan revived the idea in 1985 with her “7 Easy Pieces” collection, designed with working women in mind.
Project 333. In 2010, Courtney Carver introduced the “minimalist fashion challenge” of wearing only 33 items of clothing for three months. Included in this capsule are clothing, shoes, bags, accessories, and jewelry- only pajamas, workout wear and underwear are excluded. Perhaps the most restrictive capsule I’ve come across, I’ve found it a worthy experiment to get you thinking.
The 37-Item Capsule concept was started by Carolyn Joy of the blog Unfancy as a more moderate variation on Project 333. She increased the number of items and only included clothing and shoes in that count. Seasonal items are stored and then rotated out of storage every three months. This has to be the most popular capsule wardrobe method around. It has been adopted by a number of my favorite Youtubers: The Anna Edit, Kitty Cotten, and Use Less. Carolyn’s site provides a user-friendly guide to making this method work for you.
The 10-Item Wardrobe was first described in Jennifer Scott’s book Lessons from Madame Chic. This capsule includes 10 “core” items, such as dresses, skirts, tops, and pants, that are supplemented by “extras” (T-shirts, sweaters, outerwear, shoes, and special-occasion wear). The 10 core items are rotated out seasonally, the idea being that bringing items out of storage makes them feel new again and can help squelch the urge to shop.
The 5-Piece French Wardrobe. This is not so much a capsule concept as a shopping plan. The idea is that you only purchase five items just twice a year. The emphasis is on quality over quantity and carefully selected investment pieces over trendy ones.
Popular with the minimalist set is the idea of a Small Year-Round Wardrobe without seasonal rotation. Fans of this system often limit their closet to a set number of items which seems to vary based on climate and other factors. Great for assessing your entire wardrobe at once, it is also adaptable to your needs. My favorite Youtubers in this category are A Small Wardrobe and Vested Interests.
The Curated Closet. This book was written by blogger Anushka Rees, and has an accompanying workbook as well. Rees combines in-depth analysis of your personal style with meticulous planning strategies. The goal is to create a truly refined wardrobe customized to your specific tastes and needs. This is by far the most comprehensive and detailed primer on creating an ideal wardrobe, capsule or otherwise. I plan to do a series on my own experience of working through the book.

Hopefully this breaks it all down for you and helps you decide which approach most appeals to you. I have found it helpful to try out a number of methods and change it up as my wardrobe evolves. No matter what approach you take, you’ll find a world of difference in how you think about clothes.

The Plus Size Capsule Wardrobe

January 05, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Clothes, Minimalism, Capsule Wardrobe

To see every item in my capsule wardrobe, click here.

Having had minimalist tendencies since childhood, I quickly became an avid fan of all things capsule wardrobe-related. It was the stuff of dreams: a small, curated collection of clothes I actually loved to wear. I dove into the de-cluttering process with great fervor, and was surprised by many style-related epiphanies along the way:

1. I hate ruffles and puff sleeves.

2. V-necks never look good on me.

3. Dresses make me feel awkward—but a pencil skirt and blouson top make me feel chic.

I whittled things down to my favorite essentials, then began to fill in the gaps— a black sweater, or another white tee. The only trouble was, at this point, I was extremely picky about what I wanted to add to my capsule wardrobe. Among the multitude of simple, minimal, and ethical brands popping up everywhere in response to the capsule trend, none of them carried my size. While “fast fashion” brands had begun welcoming plus-size customers with open arms, finally making cheap, disposable clothing available to all, quality or designer pieces worthy of space in my capsule closet were nowhere to be found.

I started following plus-size fashion Youtubers as well as minimalists and capsule-wardrobe gurus. But the plus-size fashion mavens were all wearing Torrid, Fashion Nova, and Shein, ecstatic that the trendiest of trends now came in their size. And the capsule wardrobe crew were all impossibly, unrelatably thin. Thus, I had to find my own way: sifting through the racks at TJ Maxx and Marshalls, ordering online from Asos Curve and Lands’ End, occasionally finding that an XXL from Gap or Old Navy would work just fine. And then—as though suddenly realizing our money was just as good as thin people’s—a few classic brands started offering plus sizes. I am so pleased to report that at long last, J. Crew goes up to 5X! LOFT plus sizes are here! (though not in stores). And Universal Standard has a return policy that allows you to exchange sizes within a year of purchase if you’ve lost or gained weight!

Which brings me to another issue: weight fluctuation. If your weight loss journey has gone awry, or even turned into a weight gain journey (hey, life happens), you might hesitate to invest in higher-quality clothes for a capsule wardrobe. Having had my weight fluctuate about a hundred pounds over the last decade, I came right up against this dilemma. And for me, the answer is partly moderation in purchasing, but also have what I like to call a “Weight Change Capsule Wardrobe.”  When I decluttered my wardrobe, I kept only things I loved, no matter what size they were. The ones that fit me got hung up in the closet, and the ones that didn’t went into a storage bin on my top shelf. The next time my weight changed, I simply swapped out sizes. Sure, I had to fill in a few gaps again, but having these core pieces stored away saved me from having to start from scratch. This idea of swapping out clothes from storage is often an inherent part of maintaining a capsule wardrobe, usually done at the change of season. But I see no reason that it can’t work in the same way for anyone whose weight fluctuates. Shopping for fewer items and pulling out your old favorites helps ease the transition in terms of body image and is far less wasteful and damaging to the environment. My current wardrobe is relatively small because I work from home and don’t need a large variety of styles. I have a basic uniform, and don’t stray from that. (As I said from the beginning, I do have rather minimalist tendencies.) But your capsule doesn’t have to look like mine. There is so much inspiration online and on Pinterest- have a look around to see what your ideal closet might look like. Take your time decluttering, and experiment with your existing wardrobe. Find what works best for you, and don’t settle for anything less.

To see every item in my capsule wardrobe, click here.