Present Over Perfect

I think my preference for only neutrals and blues struck
me more forcefully on this trip for two reasons: first,
because I kept having to pack and repack all these brightly
colored things I wasn’t even wearing, and second, because I
was trying so hard to find simplicity in so many areas of life,
and this one was sort of staring me in the face, waiting for
me to catch on.
When I got home from the trip, I returned the pink and
red and green shirts I’d carried thousands of miles, having
never even removed the tags. I cleaned out my closet,
selling and donating bags and bags of things—colors I
didn’t wear even though I thought I should, shapes that
someone would love but I didn’t. And when I was finished,
I felt lighter, more like myself.
For some people, getting dressed is a delight, a way to
tell the world who they are, a creative and inspiring process.
Some people get a little charge of energy from the pure
variety of what they buy and put together and wear. I’m
finding that I get a little charge of energy from knowing
exactly what I love and what I don’t, and being clear about
the two. I’m more inspired by a near-uniform, a narrow set
of parameters that make me feel most like myself.
I love wearing black, white, gray, and blue. I love classic
shapes, stripes, jeans. And I love the flash of metallics, like
gold sandals and jewelry. I find such delight and energy in
this newly simple way of dressing—that actually I’d been
practicing for a long time, only now my closet reflected it.
I’ve been doing the same thing in my kitchen for several