GAYS MILLS - I’ve hit 30 now and I’m trying to be more fashionable.
For the longest time, my fashion could be called ‘poor-kid-in-her-20s-who-might-have-found-that-T-shirt-on-the-curb.’
I’ve also always been pretty bad about knowing what looks good on me and tossing out clothes that don’t. So, more often than not, I’d be given things, buy things at a thrift store, or indeed scavenge them from some forgotten pile, but abandon them for the same worn-out pair of jeans and North Crawford International Students of 2007 T-shirt. Both of which were perfectly worn in and soft. The rest would pile up in a closet until my next move, when they’d be shoved into a garbage bag and dumped into the next closet–I was never very good at folding.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve attempted to get a little wiser and now with the whole ‘only-keep-it-if-it-sparks-joy’ trend, I’ve started to get rid of a lot of clothes. Actually, I should add, having a mom bod of two also helped make these decisions. Few things are more depressing than trying to squeeze into your once favorite jeans only to find out, ‘it ain’t happenin!’
Because I’ve never been so excellent at fashion, I decided to try one of those curated box o’ fashion services.
For those of you who’ve never heard of these, they seem to be all the rage right now. And I had high hopes it would be helpful for a fashion stumblebum such as myself.
It seemed pretty simple, you just fill out a little bit about yourself, your height, weight, what parts of your body you like to flaunt and the others you try to downplay and then fabrics and styles you love and avoid.
I tried to be accurate yet adventurous and when the question of “WHY!? in the world would I be trying this service” came up, I clicked the “to try things I’d never pick for myself” box.
I have to admit, I was a little afraid they’d send me the young people fashions of today, like the super high-waisted ‘mom’ jeans that were popular once in the 90’s and have made a resurgence or a cheetah print shirt, cut off above the belly button and passed off as trendy.
When the little brown box finally arrived on my doorstep, I scurried off to hide in my room and open it in peace. Hoping to have a chance to examine each piece of clothing.
Knowing the company carries high-end designer items, I opted for the “as cheap as possible” option for my items. Although it may be thrilling to wear a fancy designer dress to Aldi’s once on a Saturday afternoon, I’d probably end up dripping mustard on it later.
The service works by allowing you to try on the clothes you receive and you have three days to decide what to keep. After the three days is up you either return or pay for what you want. Not too difficult, but the idea of “borrowing” these clothes did make me a bit nervous.
“What if I tear off a tag accidently trying to wiggle into these funny looking jewel-toned jeans?” I thought to myself as I pulled them out of the box.
Just at that moment, Thatcher came running up the hallway toward me. He appeared to be covered in what I had immediately hoped was peanut butter and chocolate.
“MAAAAAMAAAAAA WHERE AAAARRRREE YOUUUUU!!!???” the curly-haired, filthy toddler squealed. I quickly shoved my clothes back into the box, deciding I would revisit them in the dead of night, when the potential for them to get touched by icky fingers or spittle on by an overly excited burping Waylon would be at a minimum.
Later after the rest of my family was asleep, I revisited my box of fancy clothes.
I was so shocked at how nice I looked in the fancy duds. They fit, were appropriate for work, and certainly not something I’d ever want the baby to puke on.
I took them back off and examined the tags and rejected the ones that opted for hand-washing or dry cleaning. Those tags also mean to me “probably won't get washed or will, but by accident, and will probably get ruined.”
I ended up keeping one dress, which I just really loved too much to part with and have worn it several times since. I’ve received compliments on it each time I’ve been out, which always is a good ego booster for the day.
After you receive a box from the company and are bound for the next, you’re given the option to write your stylist a note. I decided I would tell her, this woman who is probably from some metropolitan area, the truth about me–at least what I could in the allotted 200 characters. I asked for clothes that would fit my ‘rural lifestyle’ and were ‘easy to maintain’.
She sent me super fancy black leggings and a really expensive buffalo flannel shirt, among some other random items.
Not all bad, but apparently even with help, my fashion is still a work in progress.