Capsule Wardrobe, But Make It Me

I set out to build a capsule wardrobe. Simple. Neutral. Efficient. Three or four pairs of pants, a handful of tops, and a system that would quietly take the stress out of getting dressed in the morning.

I started with a plan… which is usually where things begin to go interestingly off course.

That was the plan anyway.

I hate shopping. Not in a “this isn’t my favorite” kind of way, but in a “I will think about this for weeks and complain the entire time” kind of way. So, when I finally decided I needed to fix my wardrobe, I approached it with strategy. A date was picked. A plan was made. I even told Matt, repeatedly, that this was happening.

March 21st was circled on the calendar like it was something I could not back out of.

The idea was simple: go in, find a few neutral pieces, build a capsule wardrobe, and leave with minimal emotional damage.

Naturally, that is not what happened.

During COVID, my wardrobe shifted into full-on comfort mode, and my shoes shifted into colorful and fun. Out went the structured clothes. Out went anything that required a second thought. In came easy, soft, and a little too relaxed. It worked until it didn’t.

But life changes, and apparently so do expectations for what I wear when I leave the house.

So off I went to Quail Springs Mall, starting at Von Maur. It felt like the right place in theory: clean, organized, maybe even a little calm. I wandered, I looked, and I waited for something to click.

This was the “I have my life together” phase. Everything looked very reasonable at the time.

It didn’t.

Nothing felt like “me,” or at least not the version of me I was trying to step into. So I kept walking.

Eventually, I landed at Dillard’s. I picked up a few items, just to try. And that’s when it happened, a saleslady appeared, took my handful of clothes, and guided me into a dressing room like she had been expecting me all along.

And then she just kept bringing more.

Somewhere between “just looking” and “why are there so many pants,” things started to get a little loud.

Pants. Tops. Jackets. Skirts. Dresses. More pants.

At some point, the process took on a life of its own. There were piles. There was trying on. There was reconsidering everything I thought I knew about fit, color, and how many pairs of pants one person actually needs.

This is about the moment I stopped trying to behave and started paying attention to what actually works.

After what felt like hours, I had reached my limit.

And what did I end up with?

Seven pairs of pants...Seven.

One shirt...One.

The saleslady was ready to keep going, but I was done. Fully, completely done. I had crossed the line where one more clothing item would have required a full recovery period.

So, I paid and left.

Now, about those pants.

Black, yes—but also bright green, teal, bright blue, orange and blue plaid, black and white checked, and beige. Not exactly the neutral, minimal capsule wardrobe I had originally planned. More like a very enthusiastic color story with strong opinions.

But somewhere in the middle of all that trying on, something shifted. Maybe neutral just doesn’t work for me.

Maybe I don’t actually want to blend in or quietly coordinate my way through a wardrobe.

Maybe I like color too much. Maybe I need a little surprise, a little energy, a little bit of “this shouldn’t work, but somehow it does.”

Seven pairs of pants later… I may not have built a neutral capsule wardrobe, but I did build something honest.

Which, now that I think about it, is exactly how I paint.

I don’t always start with something loud. I often begin with a plan—something balanced, something that makes sense. But somewhere along the way, something unexpected shows up. A color that wasn’t part of the plan. A shift that changes everything. And suddenly, the piece becomes something better than what I originally imagined.

Not because I followed the plan perfectly, but because I let it evolve.

So maybe this capsule wardrobe attempt wasn’t really about getting it right.

Maybe it was about noticing what actually feels like me.

I left the store with a bag full of pants and a slightly different understanding of what I’m even trying to do with my wardrobe.

Turns out, I don’t really do neutral—and honestly, I think I’m better for it.

And yes, I have already circled another date on the calendar, which I am not going to disclose. If I have not sufficiently recovered from the last experience, it may be postponed.

Tops are next.

Shoes are another experience I am not quite ready to tackle.

I’m not entirely convinced I’m ready to scale back my fun, colorful shoes anyway.

I’m not going in with a plan for a capsule wardrobe—that obviously didn’t work—but this experience has given me a little honest insight into who I am.

And if a few unexpected colors show up along the way?

Well…that might actually be the point.

Turns out, I don’t wear neutrals any better than I paint them.

Thanks for reading The 3rd Flamingo—a blog for art lovers, creative wanderers, and anyone who’s ever made a beautiful mess.