why building a minimalist wardrobe from scratch is bull crap

So I was sifting through my minimalist wardrobe the other day, (literally the most minimal of all the minimalist wardrobes...what have I done) when it dawned on me that this whole experiment of finally quitting mindless consumption for the sake of a simplified life filled with ethical decisions, renewed interconnectedness, reduced autonomy, less neurosis, and more money to allocate to "experiences" versus "materials" (do some air quotes with me here) is completely and utterly, well, bull crap! You see me above? Yeah, that's me. I'm doing that face where I feel ridiculous on the inside but it comes across endearing on the outside. 

Well anyway, there I am in a completely thrifted outfit. Not only have I embraced a reductive lifestyle in the context of consumption, I've chosen to not participate in propagated designer or fast fashion until more ethical options are wildly accessible. And clearly that was a lack of oxygen to the brain on my part, because had I known I'd be giving up a life of blissful ignorance, a plethora of choices at all times in all places of business for everything imaginable, opportunities to painfully compare my closet to those of others while adding shit I don't need, and the ability to develop my style based on a concocted formula of copying, trending, and filling in with freebies...well had I known all that, I wouldn't have done the damn experiment. Why? Because as a minion of the fashion industry I've come to enjoy certain aspects of life. Little luxuries that have now ceased to exist. I have to actually challenge myself to get intimate with my body shape again (hanging on to a high school waist size does wonders for bathroom mirror affirmations), flattering colors or eras of dress (turns out buying orange to seduce yourself into liking orange like that other blogger said doesn't work!), and create daily looks with the same amount of clothing as someone of a lesser class, or even those who are poverty-stricken might have. GASP. All for what? This is madness.

As an elite fashion blogger, my day usually consists of:

• Yoga on the roof of my tax-deductible green townhouse, obvs.
• A jog downstairs for my green juice as recommended by Tracy Anderson via Goop. Gwenyth doesn't do fiber. Neither do I.
• A quick bubble bath in my jetstream tub using some gifted L'Occitane milk bath products...nothing major or leisurely, because my personal trainer will be ringing my bell.
• Hour workout with the trainer.
• Quick shower. (I hate drinking water, so I just absorb it now.)
• Flipping through Vogue, Lucky, Marie Claire and W for style inspiration. A tedious comb through of Cosmo for the educational articles. (Did you know there's a war on women!?)
• Adding clippings to both my inspiration sketchbook and the OOTD request wall. The latter is for my personal assistant to refer to when requesting gifts from PR.
• Emails
• Twats on twitter.
• Facebooking.
• One instagram post per hour of me in various life situations that most people never experience. (This one time, I found a pair of vintage Ray Bans left on the floor at a boutique. People would kill to see me in them.)
• A quick trip to the supplement shop followed by a jet set trip to Zara, H&M, J Crew, and Opening Ceremony for window shopping. Walgreens for tampons. (<--- for some reason I still can't get a sponsor, so I still pay for these monthly. Arghhh.)
• A run through some vintage shop a friend recommended to me. Vintage is so big these days. Old is the new black.
• Back home to coordinate my trip to Paris for fashion week. Note to self: need to order extra LV luggage. Ran out of room for gifts last trip.
• Dinner with the girls at Nobu.
• Place orders for some sale items for next week's haul video which will of course be linked to full price affiliate items. God bless America.

If I were to fully embrace being a minimalist in favor of ethical shopping and sustainable style, unfortunately my days would be more like this:

• Yoga on the roof of my tax-deductible green townhouse, obvs. Five minute meditation in my "comfy" chair to jumpstart my day. A little habit formed after seeing it recommended in a perfect little self-help book from my local used book store.
• A jog downstairs for my green juice as recommended by Tracy Anderson via Goop. Gwenyth doesn't do fiber. Neither do I. Banana, chocolate, mango smoothie to go. I call it Chunky Monkey. It puts a pep in my step on the way to work since I have to take public transportation for the sake of the environment.
• A quick bubble bath in my jetstream tub using some gifted L'Occitane milk bath products...nothing major or leisurely, because my personal trainer will be ringing my bell. Subway ride to the office. Discreetly sniffing myself to make sure that aluminum-free deodarant is holding steady. So far so good with bi-weekly showers.
• Hour workout with the trainer. Notice a speaking engagement on the state of conspicuous consumption in America. Regurgitate slightly in mouth. Fantasize about new Isabel Marant tee shirts in every color. Wonders if Isabel has done H&M collaboration yet.
• Quick shower. Works 9-5. Luckily casual Fridays has been reinstated. The thrifted linen dress got allot of stares. Good thing?
• Flipping through Vogue, Lucky, Marie Claire and W for style inspiration. A tedious comb through of Cosmo for the educational articles. (Did you know there's a war on women!?) Bolts home to see if new copies of Mother Earth, Whole Living, and Kinfolk magazines have arrived.
• Adding tears to both my inspiration sketchbook and the OOTD request wall. The latter is for my personal assistant to refer to when requesting gifts from PR. Surfs blogs, pinterest and tumblr for inspiration on styling my tragically anemic wardrobe consisting of 11 items.
• Emails Unsubsribe from a handful of newsletter emails as part of resolution.
• Twats on twitter. Tweets.
• Facebooking. Scoffs at Facebook.
• One instagram post per hour of me in various life situations that most people never experience. (This one time, I found a pair of vintage Ray Bans left on the floor at a boutique. People would kill to see me in them.) What's an instagram? Is it like a modern telegram? Totally missing the idea of writing letters. Vows to write a letter to someone.
• A quick trip to the supplement shop followed by a jet set trip to Zara, H&M, J Crew, and Opening Ceremony for window shopping. Walgreens for tampons. (<--- for some reason I still can't get a sponsor, so I still pay for these monthly. Argh.) Catch up on the Sunday paper and iPad subscriptions. Check in to see how the Bangladesh aftermath is coming along. Remembers to submit petition letter to Topshop and Michael Kors requesting transparent labor standards.
• A run through some vintage shop a friend recommended to me. Vintage is so big these days. Old is the new black. Scans the closet to plan outfit for Monday. Not many choices. Forced to actually cultivate personal style. Misses just being some designer's hanger. Luckily still have two items left I can purchase this quarter. Takes notes on how far I've come with what I have. Packs up donation box in the garage.
• Back home to coordinate my trip to Paris for fashion week. Note to self: need to order extra LV luggage. Ran out of room for gifts last trip. Plan trip to upstate. Must visit mom. Remember her? She doesn't have a blog, but is important nonetheless.
• Dinner with the girls. Cozy up on the couch with leftovers.
• Place orders for some sale items for next week's haul video. Bedtime meditation.

What do you say? Want to throw in the towel with me and hit up Forever 21 for a spree?

disclaimer: I've already thrown in the towel. If you can't beat them, join them. See this post where I decide to launch my alter ego and hop on a bandwagon.

Posted in personal style