what baby clothes have taught me about the French Method and minimalism

Minimalism is not something usually applied to kid's clothing. If anything, the arrival of a newborn usually comes with an avalanche of hand-me-downs and gifted clothing. When the girl was born, I ended up with three Hefty trash bags of clothes that went straight to the donation center, for reasons of sizing or seasonal appropriateness or character placement. That was three bags in excess of the clothes she could wear. Needless to say, austerity was not a word to describe the situation. People just love picking up a cute onesie or two, especially if the baby happens to be a girl.

And then there are very good reasons why minimalism isn't practical with a baby. Spit ups, spills, blowouts, and just the general dampness of these tiny human beings make it necessary to change clothes once or twice a day. Some days, I've had to change outfits a few times even before noon.

But while it isn't really feasible to limit the number of items too strenuously, I have found it satisfying to apply the French method in two ways: 1) to buy a few high-quality items that add punch to an otherwise cheap wardrobe 2) to find a functional uniform.

spend a lot on a few high-rotation items, and spend little on what's adequate
Most of the kids' wardrobes are thrifted or gifted, and I have aimed to not get overly invested in what the kids wear. Sure, there are so many cute things for kids, and in another situation, another life, I probably would have indulged in searching for them, but in hindsight I'm rather glad I didn't get caught up in that.

But one or two super-cute Boden tees, some good See Kai Run shoes with the flexible soles, and warm long underwear have absolutely been worthwhile. These things have gotten a lot of wear. The wool undershirts and long johns get worn every day in the winter, and it's worth the peace of mind of knowing that they're dry and comfortable. The tees and shoes have been sound purchases just from the viewpoint of cost per wear. And really, just one adorable piece is enough to make the whole outfit, and it supplies all the friendly strangers something to say about the baby.

find a functional uniform
When you're in charge of wrangling a squirmy potato in and out of their clothes several times a day, you quickly come to see the advantage of streamlining the whole process. For each child, I settled upon a general uniform and then duplicated those pieces so that getting them dressed became a simpler matter. Right now for the baby, that's a wool shirt and long underwear from Finland (the hilariously named "nappy pants"), a long-sleeve onesie, a sweater or sweatshirt over top, and some comfortable jersey pant.

For both, the bodysuits came from Boden (stripes for one, stars for the other) and Hanna Andersson. Conveniently, baby things often come in multiples, so that lends itself to forming uniforms. I also bought a set of soft play pants from Baby Gap, which they both currently wear because she is so small and he is so huge.

It took some trial and error to figure out what works best for their particular season, body shape, and developmental stage. While I loved overalls on the girl, for example, they proved to be cumbersome for my wide-set and inert boy. But once I figured out what seemed to work, I set about getting rid of the majority of the pieces that didn't.

applying these ideas to big people clothes
It's so much easier to edit a child's wardrobe. If something doesn't work, wait a few months and soon enough they'll outgrow it, making the task of chucking an item easier emotionally. And then you know not to buy that same mistake again. But I have to admit that I'm still hanging on to clothes that I know don't work for me, just out of some idea that maybe some day soon, they might. And these are items that are ill fitting not just in terms of size, but also lifestyle, age . . . my developmental stage, if you will.

So editing my closet is still a wash, a work in progress if I'm feeling charitable. But applying the idea of buying a few higher-quality items to elevate a humdrum workable wardrobe--well, that seems easier done. Due to simply the current inertia of my wardrobe, anything I buy has the feeling of being a special piece.

As for finding a functional uniform, perhaps that is something I can work out on the pages of this blog over time. I would like to streamline the process of getting dressed, since I don't have a lot of time for self care but would appreciate not falling into the rut of being "mom," that harried woman with no time for self care. I honestly don't care that much about my appearance these days, but I feel like maybe I shouldn't give up that battle just yet.

the thrift road trip

"Poughkeepsie Bridge 115997" by Jack E. Boucher

I moved a few months ago to a small town a few counties over but still in New York state. It feels so remote and rural, although, ironically, I am now closer to NYC than ever, only a 90-minute drive away. It's a place where an array of wildlife (deer, a wily groundhog) visits the apple trees in the neighbor's yard, and where the local thrift shop offers layaway. Before we moved, I figured that in order to enjoy the pleasures that this place had to offer, I would have to cultivate new interests and acclimate to the rhythm of a slower day, and I haven't been wrong in that.

So slowly I have been making forays into my new environs. And one way that I like to explore a new area is by plotting a day-long road trip where I stop at all the local thrift shops within a particular area. I use The Thrift Shopper directory, which helpfully has reviews from previous visitors, to find a list of shops within a certain radius and then map them out on Mapquest. Even with two kids in tow, it can be a pleasant daytrip.

Recently I went on a loop that encompassed some towns along the Hudson River. With the haunting notes of Over the Rhine's "Poughkeepsie" song playing in my head, I stopped at little church shops and big chains like Goodwill and the Salvation Army. The church shops were filled with tiny treasures and smiling older women who God blessed me and exclaimed over the kids. The Salvation Army was located next to their homeless shelter, so it was pretty sketchy and smelled of roach spray. You never know what you will find at a thrift store, and that's never more true than when you go to one in a new area. But still, it was so pleasant to be driving on the bridge over the river, kids sleeping in the back, a new road at my feet.

Ace & Jig Folk Midi Dress

credit: mille

Kind of really love this dress. It looks vintage, but it would take a dozen years to ever come across anything that sweet in a shop. The henley neckline makes it practical when you still have a nursling, too.

hello old friend

It's been more years than I'll admit to that I've been in school, but something about the turn to fall weather always reminds me of the start of a new school year, and with it, a sense of anticipation and new beginnings.

Nothing changes your perspective more than parenthood, though. An older friend once explained it to me as being the eruption of the real into your life. Seismic changes. Becoming a mom shook me down to my roots, and I feel like I'm only now able to try to build back a sense of myself.

Let's start with the sartorial self, though, shall we? It's the easiest. My wardrobe is basically frozen in time to about three or four years ago, for financial and physical reasons. The body shape fluctuated, and the bank account dwindled, and priorities shifted. I hadn't bought anything of note in some time. It's interesting to me now to walk into my closet and see the things I acquired from such a clear period of my life. They seem almost like mementos, or old friends, and they make me feel a little bit nostalgic.

This week, though, I ordered a few things online: a pair of midrise jeans and a fall-weight sweater. Both are items that I hope will carry me through the postpartum transition and remain useful afterwards.

What I've Been Up To

enchanted mushroom forest

We have a favorite forest about 40 minutes from us where we go to camp, hike, and forage for wild foods. A few weeks ago, after the rains had fallen and the temperature began rising, we tried a new trail that led us through a small loop around a damp valley. I called it the Enchanted Mushroom Forest because everywhere you looked, scores of mushrooms of all sizes and colors were popping up through the forest. We did not find any of the chanterelles that we were looking for, but we had a good time.

Midori Traveler's Notebook

The notebook after several weeks of wear

 I'm not sure what I had originally started out looking for, but one morning I found myself plummeting down the rabbit hole of heirloom journals and premium papers. Have you had this experience? When you stumble across one of the many highly specialized subgroups on the internet with their own lingo and holy grails, and you're horribly fascinated and somewhat repelled but just keep reading (hint: if you ever want to find an answer to an obscure question, just google search your key terms and "forum").  Eventually, I came away a little boggle-headed but also a lot more schooled within a very narrow body of knowledge. And I found a better journal for me than all the previous ones I've tried over the years. In short order, a small part of my tax refund was applied to a Midori Traveler's Notebook coming all the way from Japan.

It's a simple notebook system, in the quiet and refined style that the Japanese do well. There's a thick vegetable-tanned leather cover that's made in Chiangmai, Thailand; elastics that hold the pieces inside as well as wrap around the entire journal; and a tin medallion to bind the elastics together. You can swap in different notebooks and other accessories to customize it to your needs. It's designed to be personalized, portable, and long-lasting. Once a notebook is filled, it can be slipped off and swapped for a new blank one. It's only the paper notebooks that have to be replaced, not the whole journal itself.

The notebook can comfortably accommodate about three notebooks before it gets too fat

I decided to customize mine with a blank notebook, a 2-month daily diary, a graph-lined notebook, a zip pouch, and a credit card holder. That way, I would have a place for thoughts, inspiration, a daily journal, receipts, and less important credit cards that don't fit in my wallet. I imagine it to be a cross between a Filofax and an ordinary journal, versatile enough to warrant my taking it everywhere, and therefore capable of actually being a kind of ongoing scrapbook of my life. One user described it as "adventure journaling."

This is how the 2-month universal diary is set up

Now that I've had it for a few weeks, switching out different notebooks and changing the order of things until it felt just so, I have to say that I really love it. The leather is getting worn just as expected, still stiff and sturdy but with a crosshatching of surface scuffs and wear marks (if I ever decide I dislike the worn-in look, I can oil it and it all disappears). And it's been very convenient to have a central location for my things. When I change bags, I just grab my wallet, phone, and notebook.

It's turning out as useful as I had hoped, and I feel some easing of my anxiety that time is passing me by, unrecorded. And ultimately, that is the reason I got the notebook. Flipping through my old journals gave me a feeling of connectedness to the past and to my former self. I felt a mixture of curiosity, surprise, and nostalgia, and I was glad to have them.

Fountain pens exhibit little feathering on the paper (quotes are from Walden)

To complete the tour of this rabbit warren, here are a few places I came across in my readings that may interest you. In no particular order:
- the Midori Traveler's Notebook Flickr group
- the "adventure journaling" YouTube unboxing and review
- Everyday Carry (kind of like the ever-popular "what's in your purse?" post, but predominantly male and with a survivalist slant)
- the 2013 Hong Kong ferry meetup to commemorate the anniversary edition
- the brand website, which includes profiles of artists and other notable persons and how they use the notebook, along with uploads from ordinary users

I went whole hog and acquired a Lamy Safari fountain pen, too

Note: You don't have to order directly from Japan to get this notebook. It's even sold on Amazon, but it turned out to be about 25% cheaper for me to order from a Japanese website even with shipping (pencils.jp, if you're interested), and there was a complete selection of accessories.

{this moment}

{this moment} A Friday (oops!) ritual started by Soulemama. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment.

the days are long, but the years are short

So you'll never experience such an onslaught of advice and commiseration as you will when you become a parent. It's like being inducted into a secret cabal that I never knew existed. I can't go anywhere now without being stopped by someone--usually an older woman whose children are past the childhood stage--who offers some piece of well-worn advice and then wistfully talks about when their kids were that age. The most common bit of wisdom? "They grow up so fast." It's nothing new or earthshattering, but it contains the poignancy of being witness to something both so mundane and so awe-inspiring.

I particularly like the slightly expanded version of this: The days are long, but the years are short. And now that M is definitely a toddler, not a baby, I can confirm that it's true. She has grown and changed so quickly. Even as I tumble into bed exhausted at the end of every day, ready for it to be over, I can't believe that those infant days are done.

I've been following a new blog that features the portraits of a group of kids, taken by their photographer parents, week by week. It's inspired me to try that, too. I already find myself grabbing my camera every day to try to document some funny occurrence, and I'm hoping that by formalizing it I can overcome my problem with constancy. This photo is of M several weeks ago, playing with my lenscap in the morning.

On perfection

I have come to realize I'm not a minimalist, not by a long shot. I like the coziness of woolen layers, and I'm an inveterate thrifter. But the past few months have made me a minimalist of sorts, by necessity. (I know I restate this idea in some form every few posts, but I feel weirdly apologetic about it.)

With a partner in graduate school and a constantly growing toddler, there's not much in the budget for clothing. But the thought of turning to mass-produced cheap clothing to fill in any gaps isn't appealing either. And as much as I subscribe to the idea that a well-made item is worth it, and as appealing the idea is of having an entire closet of clothes that may have cost a lot initially but have withstood the vagaries of time and trend, I find it hard to justify when my budget must account for so many other things and my style is in so much flux, post-baby. Both of these factors have prompted me to make use of an unlikely resource, the "community closet" that's open to all residents of the county I live in. It's a way of recirculating goods in the community. I've donated bags of stuff that I felt good about getting rid of, and I've found the bulk of Maizie's winter clothes from there.

It's altered my perspective on consumption. For one, it seriously curtailed my pursuit of the "perfect" version of something. Other than perhaps classic items (like a peacoat), I'm starting to think that perfection doesn't exist. Even classic items have details that may end up dating them, like the rise of the pants or the length of the collar. I've tried to find the be-all-end-all versions of things, but all that that's done for me is fuel the pursuit of More Things. It's quite possible that I just lack discipline or a clear sense of style, but the idea of perfection was for me a fantasy that didn't bring me much closer to a conscientiously edited closet.

My recent foray into buying a suit for my partner has highlighted how difficult it is for anything to be really perfect. Here is an article of clothing purported to be durable and classic, but it seems to take only 10 or so years before it becomes dated. In the thrift stores where I initially searched,  I saw racks and racks of suits with cuts too baggy and long to pass as modern. Or perhaps it was the placement of the buttons or the width of the lapel that gave the suit's age away. Whatever it was, it's clear that even supposedly enduring clothes can end up in the dustbin.

Rather than seeking perfection, I've come to really like the idea of choosing from the "best available." Good enough, just what I need, and I don't need anything more. It's like relying on the largesse of the world to bring around the right thing at the right time.

Anyway, I suppose a shift in my sartorial perspective and personal interests accounts for why this blog will see a change in future posts. I started the blog because the idea of the French Method really appealed to me, and it still does. I think it's an intelligent solution to the problem of overconsumption and under-satisfaction, and it's just fun to meditate on one's purchases this way. But lately I've found myself wanting to post about vintage clothes, thrifting trips, motherhood, photography, wild foods, and and random things from my life. I expect I still will write about style now and again, but I want to make the blog a little more relevant to my life. I know these new topics won't appeal to everyone, but I think it will make the blog feel more true to me. Thank you, sincerely, for reading thus far.

french hair

Along with the cooly chic clothes and the radiant skin free of obvious makeup, French women leave their (often long, often brunette) hair undone. I've long admired the look but couldn't pull it off. If you want your unbrushed tresses to look effortless as opposed to crazy, your hair has to be in tip-top shape, and mine was not. So Caroline de Maigret's tips in a Vogue.com article (below) for attaining that French look is as much about how to care for your hair as it is about how to style it. The gist? Don't wash it too much, don't touch it, and don't brush it.

“Charlotte Gainsbourg. Jane Birkin. Betty Catroux. French women have always had that nonchalance to their hair, that devil-may-care attitude. It looks like it’s been slept in or like maybe you didn’t wash it for a few days,” says hairstylist Guido Palau who was busy zipping from one backstage to the next) of the flyaway style favored by front-row fixtures from Emmanuelle Alt to Joséphine de la Baume.  

According to Paris-based model Caroline de Maigret, who wore her signature rumpled hair with a lamb’s wool–trimmed Chanel coat to the house’s Tuesday morning show the style’s distinctive appeal lies in its understated cool. “French women always want to look more smart than beautiful,” she says, musing on the national preference for lived-in, effortless, artfully laissez-faire strands. “If you’re spending two hours under the hair dryer, when do you have time to read?”    

In the interest of looking more cerebral—and, inexplicably, sexier at the same time—we asked de Maigret for her guide to scoring the look. “It’s very easy really, and there are actually some tricks,” she says of paring down the strategy to five simple rules. 

Rule #1: “The more supermarket the shampoo, the better the hair looks,” says de Maigret, who uses Pantene or L’Oréal Elsève. “I don’t know why, it just does. Wash it once in the morning, not twice, like they do at the hair salon.”
Rule #2: “French women never put conditioner in the hair. It makes it straight and flat.”
Rule #3: “After you get out of the shower, don’t touch it.  No hair dryer, nothing. You just let the air do it naturally.”
Rule #4: “Don’t brush. Also, you know, Parisian girls walk a lot, which makes the hair a little messy from the wind. If you’re going to go outside and have it get messy anyway, it’s better to just not brush it from the beginning.”
Rule #5: “Sometimes if you put some dry shampoo, it gives a cool texture—instead of washing it every day. I wash my hair every two days. I know. It’s really too much.” 

[full article here]

elderberry wine

We're making elderberry wine. Travis harvested about 7 lbs of wild elderberries from the Finger Lakes forest this summer, and we decided to try winemaking with them. Our first batch, a little over 2 gallons, should be ready in about 6 more months.

A good sale

Over the past few weeks, I have come to see that my weakness when it comes to a French shopping method is sales. I'm all good with self-deprivation and denial, until a good sale--and actually, to be honest, a good thrift store--comes into view. After that, all discipline goes out the window as I scramble and click to bring down my prey.

So what was that I was saying, about hardly buying anything for months and months? It's moments like these that I'm reminded of how an ex used to cluck over my shopping habits after a big haul. "Eat like a fly, shit like an elephant," he'd say. (I believe that's a saying from his native Bulgaria, but in any case, you have to imagine it said with a heavy Russian-sounding accent.)

Anyway. At least I console myself with the belief that my purchases are more and more in line with my own personal taste, try as I might to incorporate such things as Ferragamos and whatnot into my wardrobe. In the end, I still have the taste of someone who doesn't seem to care about fashion, erring toward overalls and Birkenstocks and plaid and shearling. And my purchases reflect that, though one day I might try my hand at those more elegant things.

Step 2: Analyze your mistakes

Here's part 2 of the Real Simple article. Part 1 was here.


Like rehashing a bad relationship, this cringe-inducing (yet cathartic) exercise helps ensure that you don't go down the same dead ends again. Ready? take out five things you wish you hadn't bought and ask yourself the questions in step one, plus the questions below. then let go of those items, plus anything else that's not pulling its weight--even if it still has its tags or it will be perfect once you lose 10 pounds or you have friends who throw fancy parties. "Your wardrobe should reflect who you are now," says Kendall Farr, the author of Style Evolution (Gotham, $22.50). "Don't hang on to images of what worked for you 10 or 20 years ago."

• Do you have anywhere to wear this?
• Is it high-maintenance?
• Does it make you feel old and frumpy? Or young and silly?
• Is it poor quality?
• Did you buy it for the thrill of the bargain?
• Did you buy it only because it was trendy?
• Was it a panic purchase for a big event?
• Does the color make you look pale? Yellow? Ruddy?

Your answers reveal: Your shopping blind spots. (Write down details about your mistakes so you never waste another cent falling into the same trap.) If your favorite pieces are tailored and crisp,  that's why you're not reaching for the ruffled chiffon top. If sales or the newest trends are your weakness, you don't have to give up clearance racks or Forever 21. But you will want to hold firm to your "likes" and "dislikes" list.

Step one: assess your style barometer

I always wake up completely whenever the baby cries at night in a certain pained tone. I think she must have had a nightmare tonight, since she's not teething yet and she wasn't hungry. But now I'm fully awake, and it's 4 AM, and so I have decided to type out this handy article I came across in the May 2011 issue of Real Simple. It's a methodical approach to one's wardrobe entitled "Never Buy the Wrong Thing Again." The description goes like this:

Have a packed closet and nothing to wear . . . except impulse buys you now regret? This four-step intervention plan is here to help you create a pared-down wardrobe of coordinating, enduring, great-fitting pieces and breeze by unflattering markdowns. (Because pleather leggings shouldn't happen to anyone.)

Okay, so here's step one. I'll post the other three steps later. I won't use quotes for the rest, but it's all Sarah Stebbins' words from here on out.

Identify what's working
You probably have a handful of go-to pieces you instinctively reach for when you want to look put-together. Now imagine having a rack full of them. the first step toward achieving that goal is figuring out what makes those favorites so, well, favored, says Amy E. Goodman, the author of Wear This, Toss that (Atria $27). "Pull out the five things you would wear every day if no one was keeping track," she says. Choose something in each clothing category: tops, pants, dresses, and skirts. Then ask yourself a few questions about each piece. jot down your answers so you can use them as a shopping guide later (or download a fill-in-the-blank checklist as realsimple.com/buyguide).

How would you describe the item? Crisp and tailored? Soft and ruffly?
What image does it project? Smart and professional? Edgy and fashionable?
What color is it? Does the shade brighten your complexion?
What fabric is it made of?
What is the silhouette like? Nipped at the waist? Flowing and hip-grazing?
What parts of your body does it accentuate?
What parts of your body does it de-emphasize?
Is it comfortable?


Your answers reveal: Your style barometer. Use your notes to help pinpoint what you like. "Be careful of buying replicates," says Goodman. You may learn you prefer darks and flared shapes, but you need only one good pair of black bootcuts. "Think of it as nailing down a signature look, not getting into a rut," she says.

Pots

I think I'm having an identity crisis of sorts, at least as seen through the evidence of my clothes. Recently, I decided to give up the ghost and accept the reality of my new body shape. I wasn't heavy exactly, but things have shifted around. So I gave away a small bag of my tiniest clothes and bought some sad elastic waist pants. Haha. And then, voila--the last of my post-baby weight melted away and the pants sag every time I wear them. The other of my 3 purchases so far this year was also a failure, a pair of Eileen Fisher pants. The brand fits my demographic, but not me, which is a lesson to me in rule-making when it comes to fashion. In my defense, I couldn't try them on because I had a sleeping baby strapped to me at the time.

But all in all, I'm not entirely dissatisfied. The pants themselves were only a dollar and a half each, and it's super easy to give away clothes on FreeCycle and thus avoid the landfill while making some poor student or resident hippie happy.

But I haven't written much lately because I haven't had much interest in talking about clothes, though I still like reading what other people have to say. I wonder if it was the acquisition of things that kept the obsession going. I haven't gotten a lot, and every time I think about getting a new thing, knowing that I'll have to record that purchase--at least for my own sake if not on the blog--keeps me honest.

But I've just been interested in things rather different from the style world. I've been trying to make more things from scratch, like bread, yogurt, and even laundry detergent;, moving on to using cloth diapers;  planning our next foraging trip (the wild leeks should be coming up soon!), and otherwise making tiny incremental changes toward a more simple, unadorned life. We'll be moving in August to a new space, a 2-bedroom with loft in what used to be a turn-of-the century pottery mill belonging to the university's founder. I'll be one block from a waterfall and gorge. It'll definitely be nicer, though in some odd way I'll miss our current dwelling and our hermit pothead upstairs neighbor, who likes to hang out his window in fine weather and herald all our comings and goings.

Minimalism, infomercials, and my first purchase of 2012

Inspired by No Signposts in the Sea's post about her 2011 clothing expenditures, I've decided that I'll document every piece of personal clothing I buy this year, not including what I purchase for others. I'm a bit uncertain about how I'll like this, actually, since like any addict I skulk around hiding certain purchases that don't really fit into the way I'd like to think that I spend or acquire clothes.

She goes on to write about consumerism, as many others have as well. I've been thinking about that when I've been thinking about the blogosphere, but especially about what Jenny of Fashion for Writers wrote in her post about authenticity and this focus on the exterior that blogs encourage (coincidentally, I just sold her the Lover blouse I bought last year on LOGE).

It's so easy to get caught up in superficiality, images, and obsessions with fashion, especially when your life isn't going the way you want. At least, I find that I begin to fixate on things when I feel unhappy and out of control with my life.

For the same reason I used to watch informercials during bouts of insomnia in my teenage years, I am drawn to the idea that an easily consumable product could remedy some hurt or ailment, some deficiency that you didn't even know you had. I know that makes me a perfect consumer of marketing messages, but I never said it was all rational.

I still get such a kick out of appliances dedicated to doing one thing perfectly, like my Zojirushi rice cooker with its "fuzzy logic programming" and dimpled rice paddle that has for years turned out perfectly cooked pots of rice.

Perhaps that's why I like the minimalist ethic, though it seems so opposed to single-use living. It has a similar idea of there being some square hole for which you have the perfectly shaped square block, and once filled, tada. It's done. Minimalism organizes the clutter of the world by manipulating the environment of one's imagination.

But to conclude with the original intention of this post: A few weeks ago, I purchased a pleated Orla Kiely skirt in dark pink. $1.50 at the thrift store. Probably not an investment purchase, but it allows me to try out a brand I've been curious about for very cheap. Even though I've been limiting my thrift acquisitions, you have to be willing to pull the trigger when it comes to thrift shopping.

What I didn't get: recent winter sales

Passing up Creature of Comfort's 70% sale was tough, but I had already resolved that my Autumn/Winter expenditures were done. This winter has been mild, so I don't need any more woolens. Here's what I didn't get:

• Repetto BB flats in grey suede. This was the toughest call, since it was marked down to $92, but I wasn't sure about the sizing and I already have two pairs of Repettos in my closet that I hardly wear. In the back of my mind I'd like to duplicate the elegant look of classic flats with dresses and skirts that I've seen others pull off with such aplomb, but I have shoes that will serve that purpose adequately for now. At least until I know if I'll be wearing that kind of outfit more often or not.
• Wood Wood Adrian shirt in long and half sleeve. This striped shirt had been well reviewed by others, but I decided I didn't need another striped shirt. The fit seems like something you'd have to try on in person, since it looks to be cut close at the boatneck but looser in the body.
• A.P.C. bucket bag. I have a weakness for bags, but when I thought about scenarios where a casual canvas bag would be appropriate, I realized I already had other bags that I'd probably reach for first.

Baby clothes

We were given so many new and hand-me-down baby clothes that it felt too extravagant to purchase any more. It was literally crates of clothes, so many that some things were probably worn only once. It was exactly opposite of what I had planned to do, which was pick out a few things I loved on her, wash, and rotate. But with so many clothes, and so many other adjustments needed to bring a baby into the house, I refrained from buying M anything but a handful of clothes to get her through the cold weather.

Well, like everything dealing with parenting, I have found that in some ways I was right and in other ways I was wrong. On the one hand, it turned out to be useful to have quantity in the first few weeks because babies are so messy, and we were too overwhelmed to go down to the laundromat. In the past three months I have been outfitting her in whatever random stuff we had been given. She sort of looked like Punky Brewster some days, in ill-fitting mismatched clothes, some of which had slogans like "I love shopping with mommy." She was much pinker than I would have cared for, but still, I dressed her in these clothes because they were practical and they were gifts. It didn't make sense to run out and buy a bunch of redundant clothing.

But I have found--now that we're past the initial newborn stage--that she doesn't need that many clothes, and it's nice to buy at least a few things that I love for her. I wonder why I even denied myself  this pleasure when she'll be little only once. But it all worked out because at least now I know what she needs (a few long sleeve onesies, footie sleepers, and separates; and a snug pair of pj's)

And in the end, most of her clothes will join that endless merry-go-round of used infant clothing: passed on to consignment shops or thrift stores, sold in garage sales, or given to the next pregnant lady from a friend's cousin's neighbor.

Charlotte Gainsbourg, uniform dressing, and women of a particular age

Like Sofia Coppola, Charlotte Gainsbourg has an enviable, consistent style much admired on both sides of the Atlantic. Often clad in a jersey top or button down, grey skinny jeans, and cowboy boots, Charlotte favors a uniform that sounds simple on paper but is not simple to attain.

It's not so much what's there but what's not there: very few accessories, no discernible trends, nothing cute or flashy, nothing put upon, no excess (at least her casual everyday style . . . her red carpet style is quite different).  For most, such a well-suited personal uniform is usually only achieved through assiduous editing performed over many years, after the experimentation of the younger years has subsided. It's a matter of knowing your own body and the proportions that work best for it, and taking away all the extras that detract. And it may as well be said--when things are this pared down, a trim body is, if not essential, at least very helpful. And fabric and fit factor heavily as well, both of which aren't cheap (but not necessarily that expensive either).

It takes discipline to stick to a uniform, and a certain wit to know its standard deviations. For Charlotte Gainsbourg, the standard deviations include such things as patch-pocket high-waisted denim, Converse sneakers, and brightly colored gingham--funny little touches that don't muddle the consistency of her style but rather make the uniform feel warm and human.

The insight into fabrics and proportion, the self-knowledge, the mostly fixed body type (no more pubescent surges), and the long-term editing that takes place all suggest that figuring out a personal uniform might be achieved later in life, perhaps in your 30s or 40s. Sure, you can have a goth look or be an Abercrombie devotee at a much earlier age, but to figure out a uniquely individual style and then distill it into a uniform takes a particular alchemy of things that tend to come with the years. There seems a quiet intelligence that comes from knowing yourself and your taste quite well and being able to appreciate what clothes can do for you, as well as what it can't.