If I’m being really honest with myself, which, 9 out of 10 times I am (that one other time gets lost on my relationship with a. my crotch, b. pants), it is impossible to declare that I am not an outfit planner. This is a difficult truth to come to terms with as someone who has historically prided herself on insouciance-in-conjunction-with-clothes.
The fact of the matter is, though, I have long notes — really, really long notes — aplenty languishing in my iPhone, sandwiched between what I call “big ideas” and memorable quotes/jokes that I know I will literally want to pull out of my left pocket at some point between now and the end of this digital device’s lifespan.
The meat of those e-sandwiches are the crux of my relationship with clothing and mental clarity. For as long as I can remember I have spent time doing psychic walk-throughs. What will I wear the following day in the event of rain or shine? Or an apocolapyse? Or should I find myself on an airplane unexpectedly, heading toward the Caribbean? Often, I consider the following weeks and months and semesters, too.
My sister-in-law does not have a boyfriend but I know exactly what I will wear to her wedding.
Just this morning, I stared into the black hole of familiarity that has never not stared back at me and scratched my head while I thought to myself not “what will I wear today?” (I figured that out one day last week when stuck in my own head with nothing to do but organize — and you know that’s what this is, right? A futile attempt at control over nothing — I wrote an entire week’s worth of notes of clothes I might want to wear between then and the end of next week — and in case you’re wondering, it’s a beige blazer, navy blue mid length dress, ripped jeans and yellow satin sneakers) but, what will I wear that weekend I’m supposed to go Boston in October?
I can’t even remember why I’m going to Boston in October. It’s worth mentioning that, even in spite of the recurrent outfit planning, significantly more than half the time, I go rogue, forgo my list and wear the exact opposite of what I said I thought I would. I think maybe the planning makes doing that easier. Or at least more fun.
But I guess the question still stands. Are you an outfit planner? If so, what do you think it says about you? Maybe we’d rather just not think about it — that makes evincing the spirit of manufactured effortlessness much more accurate, doesn’t it? If you don’t plan, do you think you’re better than the rest of us are?
Frankly, you probably are but still there’s something to be said about the fact that none of us may know where we’ll be in 2020, but at least we — the planners — will probably know, within a week or two, exactly what we’ll wear.