The Summer I Wore the Same Outfit for Two Months

Those of you who’ve read anything I’ve written before will know that I have a certain affinity for uniform dressing. Affinity might be the wrong way of saying it, I’m obsessed with uniform. I have written at length about all the varying facets of this obsession, but I realized that I never shared much of the action I’ve taken in the service of uniform. So, as a result, I wanted to talk about the summer I wore the exact same outfit for two months.

Ok, for context, this is a bit much. I was trying to push this idea of the personal uniform to the extreme and see if a strict uniform was something I wanted to do, something I could do. I have come to find that I much prefer the looser definition of a personal uniform. Something that allows for a bit of flexibility. An outline, a scaffolding, a formula to play with that is based upon fixed sartorial principles.

But that’s not what I’m talking about with this story…

No, this was the summer that I decided I would be wearing blue jeans, a white T-shirt or dress shirt, cowboy boots or sneakers, and a black hoodie or blazer, should it be called for, the whole summer.

I will say, when I worked out, I swapped the jeans for black exercise shorts, but this was the only exception.

At first, it was liberating. I was free of choice, free from languishing over decisions. Although I felt a bit of sadness at not having the opportunity to create something exciting with my outfits, this feeling was balanced out by the fact that the uniform made me feel cool. I felt like I had something figured out. It wasn’t a lack of style; it was a knowledge that I could put together any sort of outfit, but I was choosing this instead. It wasn’t lazy, it was definitive.

But after about a month, I found myself growing restless. I would see a creative way of styling something out at dinner or online, and wish I could try my hand at it. I would find myself wanting to swap a blazer, get creative with a shoe, or wear a different color of jeans.

“Suddenly, I had built myself a fashion prison.”

I had gone too strict with my rules. It felt authoritarian. Getting dressed became dull, depressing, and boring. I found no joy in putting clothes on or getting ready for an event.

I realized that, for me, getting dressed was, in many ways, about the chance to explore and play around with clothes. I liked the chance to be able to create something new. It’s nice to have boundaries and rules until those rules become everything.

I will say, I think everyone should try this out at some point in their lives. It’s a fun little experiment. You might find you love it, or maybe you’re more like me!