nothing new #4: just quiet
without the limitless distraction of wanting new things, I somehow have much more
Day 42/365. Nothing new.
Wardrobe update: Piles of clothes cover every elevated surface and hang from unexpected places. Some waiting to be put away. Some waiting to be worn. The others, unwanted, lay in wait for a fate unknown.
I don't think I'll ever go back to buying clothes in an open time frame - the calm I feel in this window of limits is too serenely beautiful and optimistic. The undeniable truth is without the limitless distraction of wanting new things, I somehow have much more…
More time to read. More time with friends and cuddles with my kids. More balanced emotions and uninterrupted downtime. An offline leisure series that would see me enter an era of clarity and pick up knitting needles or soak stubborn whites instead of reaching for my phone.
On the weekend I went away with friends and family. We stayed at a farmhouse near the small wintery town of Daylesford, an easy 1.5-hour drive from where I live in Melbourne.
Packing for a weekend has never been my forte. No matter how carefully I curate my suitcase, I always pack clothes that never get worn. Before this trip, I had always packed for aesthetics - what would I look like, where would I go, and what would I wear?
This two-night relaxing family weekend was the first time I had thought of packing differently. A friend sent me this article; one line inspired a gentle overhaul of approach.
Instead of packing for aesthetics first, I packed for activity.
A simple reflection of my list was followed by immense but effortless clarity.
I didn't require any special clothes, so I was just looking for comfort.
On the morning we left I got dressed in an outfit I liked. Jeans, a white t-shirt, cream Converse, a leopard collar coat, warm socks, and an extra striped layer for when it gots cold later. I packed one other all-black outfit - cargos, a singlet, jumper, black socks, dark Solomons and a puffer jacket. I threw in a scarf, my Ugg boots, PJs and toiletries.
My distilled weekend bag was full of pieces I loved and trusted.
I was packed. We went away. I wore everything.
Not only that, but my clothes did something they hadn't done in some time - they stayed quiet. No fear of judgement. No worry. No pushing or pulling at my body. No photos that I wouldn't like.
Just quiet.
I am not from a generation that has spent their entire life online, yet at 14, I was already bored with the way I looked.
Back then, there was no comparison culture. No social media. No fast fashion. No addiction to shopping… but there was boredom.
Looking in the mirror at 14, the dissatisfaction that blinked back at me was a pervasive feeling of sameness that made me feel like I was replaceable by any of my peers.
A feeling I thought I could shake when I started to dye my hair.
Sliding a box of semi-permanent copper dye across the counter in the local chemist in Manilla, NSW, the small town I grew up in, was equal in excitement to getting my ears pierced in the back room of the same chemist four years earlier.
A feeling that I couldn't afford and wasn't allowed to pursue until I moved to Canberra, moved schools and answered a newspaper ad for hair models two years later.
A feeling that would see me walk into that hair salon with straight elbow length, naturally blonde hair, tell the hairdressers, 'Do whatever you want,' and walk out with solid bangs in a rainbow of white blonde, red, caramel and brown sections that was somehow long at the front and short and shaggy at the back.
A dopamine hit that lasted while the colour was fresh was then met with the harsh reality that dying your hair back is a costly and lengthy process. A process I couldn't afford, and saw me wear a red beanie for most of the following year.
Regardless, it was a feeling so freeing that it would see me dye my hair religiously as soon as I could afford to do it properly and continue to throughout my adult lifetime.
But as my hair became more ‘natural’, my clothes needed to do the heavy lifting. I bought new clothes first at a reasonable pace and then, as each piece became meaningless - in absolute abundance.
On nothing new #3, Xue asked me whether I would share the prompts I first asked myself in repairing my relationship with clothes.
In that first month, these are the questions I asked myself:
What are you wearing? *Describe in as many or as few words as you like.
How old is the oldest piece of clothing you are wearing?
How old is the newest piece of clothing you are wearing?
How does this outfit make you feel?
*I asked these questions every day for 30 days and learnt a lot about the clothes I was wearing on rotation. I wore the same clothes. My clothes were all very new - within a few months old, apart from some shoes. And I cared a lot about what brands I was wearing.
This self-awareness was the building blocks for my future explorations. I didn't judge where I was; I looked at myself from a curious perspective - guilt and shame are the enemy of change.
If you try the above, let me know and be kind to yourself. There is enough judgement in this world. x
*This post is part of a larger body of work that explores Our Relationship With Clothes. Australia is the largest consumer of textiles in the world; we ask questions in the hope of encouraging self-reflection and change.
Stage of life and lived experience also changes your perspectives on lots of issues including what you wear. 💋
The quiet, the silence, we all need to refresh.
How do we step back into the cacophony of life , i imagine, many people ask? That is why it’s not just about fashion or our relationship with clothes it’s our relationship with life.
I hope more people follow your journey not just fashion types but those from all walks of life . So calling on all of you that follow Liz send her link out.