If you bat a thousand when it comes to style-related purchases, you’re my hero. I’ve never known anyone who adores and uses every item she ever buys and never makes a shopping blunder, but if you are she, you are AWESOME.
For the rest of us mere mortals, purchasing missteps must be dealt with on occasion. In my experience, there are three main choices for items you feel won’t work in the long run: Return, repurpose, and resell. Here’s how I break down my choices.
I return anything that doesn’t fit, is damaged, wasn’t what I expected, doesn’t work within my wardrobe, and, of course, is returnable. Seldom do I purchase anything that I’m unsure about if it’s a final sale situation, but it has happened on occasion. I’m more inclined to return items quickly if they are expensive, since I absolutely hate to have money missing from my account that should eventually be mine again, but once I’ve decided to return something I get a bit obsessed. Even small items will get whisked back to their respective stores or dropped into the mail within hours of the decision being made. Nothing irks me like missing the return window on an item that I have no intention of keeping or wearing.
Originally posted 2012-02-13 06:19:11.
Discussions of wardrobe organization always center on closets. How big is your closet? What kind of shelves and racks are inside? What gadgets do you use to keep it in ship shape?
But many of us have dinky, cramped, turn-of-the-century closets (see me waving my hand in the air?), and are forced to find other, creative ways to store and organize our goodies. Here are some of the most common non-closet clothing-storage solutions:
These monsters are, essentially, freestanding closets and are sometimes referred to as “wardrobes.” What better place to stash your clothes? The one shown above is among the most common layouts, with a cupboard-like section up top that typically features a hang bar and a drawer or two below. I’ve got one with sliding doors on both sides and shelving above the hang bar, so there are definitely variations on the theme.
Originally posted 2012-02-08 06:00:32.
What? What’s that you say? You are already at peace with maxis? Or, wait. You hate this silhouette with every fiber of your being and have no intention of reconciling? Well, as always, you are the author of your own stylistic destiny. But in case you’re curious about my thoughts on diplomatic overtures to floor-sweeping skirts, read on.
I was born in 1977, so I have no preconceptions of maxis. I believe I thrifted one for myself back in middle school while I was neck-deep in my Arthurian legend phase and wore it despite its incongruity among the low-slung jeans and prep-wear of my peers. It felt good on my legs, I liked how it moved, and I didn’t much care if it was stylish or not. I saw plenty of my college cohorts in patchwork maxis and long, tiered, crushed velvet skirts in the mid-90s, too, and thought nothing of it. Wasn’t my speed at the time, but I still understood the appeal. It wasn’t until I began consuming fashion-related magazines, blogs, and other media that I became aware that this piece of clothing is incredibly polarizing. And, even now, the comment I get most when I wear my own maxis is, essentially, “That looks great on you, but I could never pull it off.”
Originally posted 2012-03-15 06:12:34.