How to have the perfect outfit every day!

Trouble is, they're not outfits I want

Following on from last week’s column - Get Ready For Summer! - here’s another woman’s magazine staple I’m sure we’re all familiar with.

For many years this thing has been presented as the key to a calm and sorted life. And I realise that, by this age, I really should have one. It’s:

The Capsule Wardrobe.

ie., a small selection of classic pieces which are easily interchangeable, thus offering up the possibility of many different outfits.

All my adult life I’ve believed that, if I had one, then every messy area of my life would miraculously sort itself out.

I must get a capsule wardrobe I decided when, forced to make a work presentation, I realised that jacket of the ‘classic’ trouser suit I’d bought in haste had several horizontal openings across the back, as if slashed by maniac.

I REALLY need a capsule wardrobe! I’d think, still in my younger office-working days, whenever I woke up late and realised in panic that my work clothes were still wet. But never mind because - ta-daaah! - I could iron them dry. Cue billowing clouds of steam as I tried to burn the moisture out of the sopping fabric, and realising at lunchtime that my outfit was still damp.

I really wanted to be Capsule Wardrobe Woman. I mean, who wouldn’t?

She never arrives for an appointment with sweat dribbling down her cleavage and her feet bleeding. She doesn’t rashly buy a yellow dress that will make her look as if she’s been dug up out of a grave because it was only £12.50. And as everything fits properly and is of an appropriate length, she doesn’t inadvertently flash her gusset.

Like French women she is always polished and chic. She reaches into her wardrobe and instead of it being a jumble of musty old sweaters, terrible skinny jeans and a rather nasty purple velour dress (I swear it was blue in the shop!) - all being feasted on by a colony of moths - there is… just the outfit she needs for today.

It’s so easy because it’s a cleverly edited selection. Not the result of years of late night wine-fuelled shopping and being unable to throw anything away. The pared down approach makes sense - because self-imposed limitations can make life easier.

Like when I went on an a five-day art retreat and arrived to find that the others had brought just a neat box of acrylic paints, or five oil pastels, or actually nothing at all. Simon needed no supplies as he planned to make his art with pieces of charcoal found on the beach.

I’d shown up with: acrylics, oils, watercolours, pencils, crayons, charcoal, pastels (soft and oil), printing inks, rollers, drawing inks, dip pens, many brushes, scissors and glue for collage and seven different sketchbooks because I couldn’t decide which type I wanted (big or small? Smooth or textured? Spine like a book, or spiral bound?).

The car was jammed and it took three trips to the studio to unload it all. When it was time to actually do something, I didn’t know where to start.

The capsule approach (one paint set, one pencil, one pad) would have made life far easier. However when it comes to applying this to clothes, there is a problem.

Here’s your typical capsule wardrobe:

Dire, isn’t it? Feel that lifeblood rushing out through the soles of your feet?

The thing is, I never want any of the recommended pieces. Some of my friends look fantastic in blazers but I always feel like Theresa May.

Honestly, I think you’re either Capsule Wardrobe Woman or you’re not. Let’s consider the ‘pieces’, above, as suggested on Vogue.com:

Smart black trousers: for your forthcoming court appearance.

Camel trench: for dressing up as a spy.

Grey knee-length pleated skirt: secondary school, 1981. Long, dreary days of cross sectional diagrams of the earth’s crust - and desperately waiting for real life to begin.

Grey V-neck sweater: malaise in knitted form.

Malaise shoes.

‘Classic’ belt? Pointless belt.

Crisp white shirt: go on - splatter me in gravy!

Maybe I struggle with the concept because it’s about how you put things together - and some people are excellent at this. With food, for instance:

My friend Tania throws together whatever vegetables she has hanging around and makes a delicious soup/pie/curry.

But a certain family member gathers together all the yellow stickered supermarket foods (ie, teetering on the edge of poison): browning babycorn, collapsing tomatoes, a terrifying packet of prawns and a yule log from Christmas 1976 - and then throws them together to create the following thrilling variations!

1. A worrying ‘platter’.

2. The kind of mild food poisoning that stops short of barfing, but makes you shivery.

3. Bathroom-themed emergency.

4. A day that started off well but is now in ruins.

This person snatches at whatever catches their eye and is a bargain. I can’t criticise really as, with clothes shopping at least, I also go for the quick, cheap fix.

I’m attracted to things in bright colours that don’t go with anything I own, and are no longer right for my body shape. I like things that are too short, too young, that ride up alarmingly and flash my arse to strangers. Or I like crazy party things, bought in a burst of excitement - like a blue crushed velvet jumpsuit, worn once.

I fell in love with it in the changing room, thinking about our forthcoming party and our family and friends all gathered together. For our forthcoming holiday I swooped on a bright orange dress that I know won’t work in Glasgow, when I’m the colour of mashed potato.

I buy impulsively and waste money, and my wardrobe is a jumble and nothing makes sense. Quite often, for work trips especially, I find that I have literally nothing to wear.

A radically different approach would change all that. A capsule wardrobe would comprise a few classic and versatile items which would all work together beautifully, in numerous permutations.

Life would be simpler and streamlined and far less stressful.

But honestly - who wants that?

Love,

Fiona xx

PS My new novel, The Woman Who Got Her Spark Back, is out tomorrow (ie, June 7!). It’s a story of new beginnings, midlife adventures and the people who pull you through, when it really matters. There’s also a houseplant hospital, a long ago friend bowling up unexpectedly with a gigantic suitcase - and a fight with biscuits. I mean, what more could you want? You can pre-order here!