In my wardrobe lives a basic off-white J.Crew cami. 100% polyester. Bought seven years ago, in pre-pandemic era. It has been under almost every cardigan, blazer, and open button-down I own. It moonlights solo in summer. Conservative estimate: 250+ wears (3 times a month), and at this point, it's basically achieved carbon-negative status through sheer persistence. It knows my deodorant preferences better than my dermatologist.
Lately I can't stop thinking about cool moms. These women who had kids and somehow… didn't lose themselves? Actually, they found something even better. You know Maddie from Sweet Magnolias? That woman manages Southern grace while wrangling teenage drama and still looks pulled together in her boho blouses and always perfect jeans. Or Karen Wheeler—yes, Mike's mom from Stranger Things—serving looks in Hawkins while everyone else is in survival mode. After years of working with mothers trying to figure out their style, here's what hit me: the ones who nail it aren't desperately clinging to their twenties. They've become something else entirely.
In nearly every client's wardrobe I encounter, there's a consistent pattern: beautiful, expensive pieces with tags still attached, hanging like monuments to the lives we thought we'd be living by now. A silk dress waiting for yacht parties that never materialize. A beaded clutch anticipating galas that remain stubbornly theoretical. Designer heels standing at attention for a lifestyle that exists primarily in saved Instagram posts.
Black Friday's in about a month. Then it's Christmas sales, then the end-of-year clearances. For the next three months, you're going to be bombarded with the most aggressive shopping triggers of the entire year—and if you don't have a system in place before the sales start, you're going to end up with a closet full of "amazing deals" you never actually wear. This is your advance warning, your prep time. Read this now, do the closet audit, create your strategic shopping list, and get your mental defenses in order. Because here's what I've learned after years of working with clients who describe their closets as "full of clothes I never wear": impulse shopping isn't a willpower problem. It's a systems...
You know that woman? Let's call her Maya. Every friend group has one. Sometimes it's Marcus, sometimes it's that person whose name you never quite catch but they always look amazing. Anyway. She makes the rest of us look like we're trying too hard, except when she makes us look like we're not trying at all. Both? How does that even work? Monday, I kid you not, she shows up dressed like she's in a Tim Burton movie. All this black, these layers, shoulders that look architectural. Cut to Thursday and she's wearing—I'm pretty sure this is true—your grandmother's cardigan. Those wooden toggle buttons and everything. And it works because of course it does. Oh, and she'll walk into meetings...
