Signature Style as Uniform
To some degree, good style always comes back to some level of relation to the uniform. But not like you might think. We mean a variety of different things when we talk about dressing in a uniform, so I think it’s a topic that deserves a little unpacking. This could quite literally mean a uniform dress code, like for schools or a particular job. But it could also mean simply a predictable pattern of dressing day in and day out for the purpose of simplifying the number of decisions you have to make. Or a less commonly considered option, a uniform can simply be very distilled signature style.
Most often, I think we turn to the idea of a uniform in our every day lives because good style that is both nuanced and ever evolving is quite frankly nearly impossible to achieve without professional guidance or intense study, or a hefty bank account that can cover up for a lack of well-intentioned, but ultimately swing-and-a-miss purchases.
And so this idea of having a predictable set of items that you buy and then wear in more or less the same way all the time is seductive. What if good style could be achieved with no effort?
Choosing to wear the exact same thing every day is a valid way of choosing to dress. I can deeply relate to the urge some of you might share with me to make a choice and repeat it ad nauseam. I frequently wear the exact same outfit over an over again. Something about the repetition is comforting. I wonder if it was this kind of repetition that Steve Jobs was attracted to?
And yet I think we have to seriously ask, is this kind of choice just a shortcut? And if so, what could you be missing along the way? Style is creative, and if you’re opting out of creativity, it’s important to think about what you might be missing. If we put every aspect of our lives on autopilot, the thrill of discovery, the joy of the unexpected, and the connection to new ideas and people will be experienced less and less and less. Sometimes the work, the decisions, even the fatigue of figuring things out is the struggle that bears fruit.
And yet, I think we miss something if we look at uniform dressing simply as an opting out. No matter how simple or streamlined, there’s always a little element of pride and intensely tailored selection of the pieces that are deemed worthy enough to be worn so repetitively. When you pick apart the ideas and impulses behind uniform dressing, you quickly begin to see that there really is an art to it, despite its deceptively simple outward appearance and execution.
I have spoken to many people who long for a uniform out of fatigue with trend cycles and the demands of every day life. Many of us desire more simplicity out of our wardrobe. We want to imagine that if someone said, “Pack your bag for Milan, we’re leaving for the airport in 30 minutes”, the items would be stupidly simple to gather in no time at all and you’d be the picture of effortless style during your trip. Okay, perhaps I’m the only one who fantasizes about such scenarios…
But you get the idea. Having a pattern of dressing and items worn promises a simplification and consistency that we often crave. Can we just choose, and then let the clothes carry us forward?
Or is it possible that we are misunderstanding the idea of a uniform? If we reverse engineer the concept, maybe the uniform springs out of an intensely distilled and grounded sense of self instead of being the thing that causes us to feel stable and grounded.
If your aim is both good style and a uniform, I think you have to begin with this deep self-knowledge and how that translates to clothing or you will have something so fragile that the slightest tweak or change in temperament will capsize the whole project.
Because yes, fashion is a language all its own. You can’t simply say “At my core, I’m a broody artist with a touch of whimsy” And then know exactly what shoes to buy. Good style, even a deceptively simple uniform has to be rooted in something or it will fall apart, or simply be clothing. Did Steve Jobs simply want to uncomplicated his life and focus on “more important things.”? Or was there something else to it? It seems there was more a philosophy of culture and simplicity that struck a deep chord, and created this shift for him. And even I could be convinced to wear a black turtleneck every day of my life if I had 100 of them custom made for me by a world-renowned designer, the late Issey Miyake!
And so, what are your ideas? Who are you? Where do you come from? Where are you going? I am often thunderstruck when I can connect the ways that an item of clothing connects with a part of me I didn’t even realize was there. And vice versa. I am forever changed in style from my connection with the German language and culture, or our years living in Texas. I am never not drawn to farm boots because of my childhood, and that one pair of steel toed leather boots I wore even when I wasn’t spending time with the horses. I had forgotten about those boots until last week when I looked down at my Blundstones and was shot back in time. Suddenly I was 15, wearing faded jeans and a floppy too-big old navy t-shirt, and those brown boots. Everything is connected, and it’s important to pay attention to these elements if you want to build out your version of great style. I have spent a lot of emotional energy trying to reject Small Town Rural Mary, but have lately realized that it’s actually an interesting part of me that can even elevate my style and make it more authentic to my whole person. Self reflection can be hard, but it can also be healing, and hopeful, and full of exciting forward momentum. (For the record, I had a great childhood, but we all have our emotional hangups don’t we?)
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The best way I know how to do this work of connecting with the ideas of who you are and where you’re going is to first remember not to neglect attention towards who you have been, and skip towards your aspirations of who you want to be—or worse—who you want to look like you’re being. If you take this route, you’ll shortcut your style and end up in some weird places, like tidy pre-packaged aesthetics like Cottage Core or Quiet Luxury, both of which have really great elements, but as a whole, reject the person in favor of the aesthetic.
Once you’ve connected with your ideas, actually write them down.
Write down adjectives that resonate with you. I’ve heard it recommended to think about what someone might write about you on your epitaph. Personally this exercise evades me, but I get the idea, and have found it at least helpful to think about what I might say about myself when I’m being clear-eyed, but also being kind to myself.
These descriptors can change. They don’t have to be done and dusted, but if you feel like you’ve landed somewhere authentic with your adjectives, but also at peace with them (no hard-truth adjectives, just kind ones), then you’re probably in a good holding spot, even if you need to refine them further at a later point.
My process is ongoing, but I started out thinking actually about what kinds of outfits make me feel really good. I went back to pictures I’ve saved in my folder called “Mary Mother” where I started years ago saving favorite photos of me with my kids, to remind me on hard days of parenting the beauty of me being a mom. Every one contains some element of being outdoorsy, or natural, or unaffected. Always jeans, always sandals, always a little broody or playful, but nowhere in between. I thought initially that my adjective was going to be “moody,” but I decided that, though true, I am often moody, I didn’t feel good about that being the word people would attach to me. I hope I’m more than simply moody! As I continued to think, I kept being drawn to this sort of child-like element of myself. The part that enjoys children’s books and Kawaii and glitter and the imaginative and emotional Bollywood films that captivate my senses. I decided that moody is incorporated in some of my other more prescriptive elements of dressing that I’ve adopted from Amy Smilovich’s methods, where every outfit incorporates the elements of chill, modern, and classic. And so I was looking for something else. Something that I could add to these elements that would make every outfit feel like me. My working adjective is currently “Whimsy.” And it’s that word that infuses my desire for a practical, hard-working, farm boot-wearing, yet modern style with something like the imaginative world of Tove Jansson’s Moominvalley.
You see, good style has to have some friction, just like people. No one is one-note. No one fits cleanly into a specific aesthetic, and if you try to pigeon hole yourself, you’ll end up maybe with “style” but nothing like “personal style.” And style itself comes with a lot of baggage, a lot of scrolling, a lot of always being “in the know.” No easy trips to Milan, just constant shopping, always comparing, and never keeping up.
And so, is uniform dressing really just great personal style? Has great style always just been uniform dressing?
I am intrigued and convinced by the myriad examples of some of the best artists of our time and times before us who dress according to a uniform at some level. Variation exists, but the common threads are there. One of my first introductions to uniform dressing was through the work of street style photographer Bill Cunningham, who always wore some iteration of the same thing, most notably a blue chore coat. More recently I found this substack piece about the “uniform” of different clothing designers. Again, the variation is evident, but these people seem to be less obviously experimental and trend driven, and more grounded in their own sense of self and what they want to wear.
It’s this groundedness that I think we crave at the end of the day. The feeling that even when we toss on a coat and shoes for a late-night pharmacy run we feel good, like ourselves. Every piece in our closet works as hard as we do, and it rewards us for our efforts. We wake and sleep, feeling that our clothing is doing its job to protect, inspire, and ultimately take a back seat to the daily call to live well and love well.
Until soon,
Mary
P.S. We’ve had a looooooong winter. You too? If you’re looking for an antidote, I recommend picking up a copy of Moominland Midwinter, my current re-read aloud with my 2 little ones. Otherwise, life for us has looked like lots of navigating illness, drinking espresso from a gorgeous, gifted Italian espresso maker(!!!), giving my professor husband a faux hawk, and doodling with my kids on these snowy days.
FYI, I love to hear from you. E-mail me billlowstyling@gmail.com with questions, updates on your life, or to inquire about working with me.
For several years in college, I would use lent as a time to “fast” from any clothes outside a uniform — usually a few basic black, gray and brown tops and bottoms. I’ve dropped the habit the past few years. But you’ve inspired me to try it again, but instead of the uniform being dark colors, it’s clothes that make me feel like me! The rest of my closet is in boxes until Easter. It’s so easy to get dressed- a creative yet effortless experience!! It’s been a little picture of lent for me— simplicity not just to be ascetic but to be free! I might be over spiritualizing this but thought I’d share 😂thanks for this post!
I've never considered a uniform being the result of someone's intense self-knowledge. I am sitting with this!