My Style Journey

I have sisters who are stylish.  Who wear all sorts of interesting things and make them look good.  (One of my sisters could literally wear a horse blanket with twine holding it on and look ah-mazing.  She could wear the VonTrapp drapes and be adorable!)  I walk into a store having no idea what would look flattering or fit my style.  Style?  My “style” is whatever halfway fits from the clearance rack.

I became a catalog shopper before the internet was a thing.  I’m awful at shopping- – going into a store with the lights and the salespeople watching and all the stuffs everywhere and the prices- – it’s all enough to give me a migraine.  When I was fairly young my mom stopped taking me shopping because I was such a killjoy.  But it was more than my sensitivity to prices and lights- – I am overwhelmed by all the options that don’t work for me in stores.  I am plus size.  Fluffy?  Overweight.  Fluffy.  I think I like “fluffy” best.

From high school on, I developed the mentality that it’s not what on the outside that counts.  I can rock inside stuff like being kind and helpful, but I can’t rock the outside stuff.  So I’ve pretty much given up trying any harder than “presentable.”  Clothes were designed to hide me as much as possible.  To help me blend in so no one would notice me.

I had no right to try to look pretty or feminine or stylish.  I just did the best I could, shopping the clearance section and wearing ill-fitting, low-quality items that helped me get by.  There’s a wedding coming up—better find the best I can do off the clearance rack.  Oh, I have a job interview—better find the best I can do off the clearance rack.

And that, my friends, is how I ended up with a closet of clothes that I don’t like (A brown pinstripe suit?!?  A brown pinstripe suit!?! No wonder I didn’t get that job!) and don’t fit well.

In the last few years, plus size fashion has become more available, but in that same timeframe I stopped working which decreased my already small clothing budget.  The switch to staying home also meant I had less need for presentable clothing.  This has only escalated my closet crisis.

The external closet crisis is all tangled up with my internal crisis.

In thinking about it, I do have an hypothetical style.  My style icons would be Audrey Hepburn and Kate Middleton.  Beyond the classic, simple, look I do like me some florals.  I created a pinterest board with the clothes that seem “me.”

I am super excited at the thought of having a capsule wardrobe.  But if I were to set up my closet with 33 or so items in which I am comfortable and fit well, I’d probably need to buy about 29 things.

That’s hard to do when you hate shopping in stores. (Verily’s response to Amy Schumer’s video  pretty well sums up my shopping experience, except for the swears.)

Because of all this, I have watched *more than a little* jealously as people post their finds from Stitch Fix, the style box for unfluffy women.  Somehow the other day, though, I stumbled across a fluffy alternative!  With Dia & Co. you pay a $20 “styling fee” to have a box of 5 items (curated for you based on a questionnaire) sent to you.  You mail back (with free shipping!) whatever you don’t want, and if you do keep any of the items, the $20 fee is credited toward your purchase.  Low risk, high reward.

And so I made a speech to David about wanting a box from Dia & Co. for Mother’s Day.  David has always been supportive of my ramblings about wanting to build a wardrobe in which I’m comfortable, but I always chicken out because I feel guilty spending money on myself.  Mother’s Day seemed a reason to splurge, so I filled out the questionnaire and started waiting for the package to arrive.

Today my very first Dia & Co. box arrived, and I can’t wait to blog about it!  Spoiler alert: I was not disappointed.