Borrowed Comfort

Some of my OUTfits aren't carefully planned.

They're assembled from things that are comfortable.

Today's outfit started with a simple burgundy dress. Really a cover up. A nothing. Nothing fancy. Just one of those dependable dresses that slips on without much thought.

Then came a plaid LL Bean shirt that belongs to my husband.

It's soft.

Broken in.

It smells like him.

It smells like our home.

Comfortable in the way only clothes that have lived a life can be.

The old leopard boots are another story.

I bought them recently, and they're half a size too big.

Objectively?

Not the on the dot purchase.

Subjectively?

I love them.

Sometimes joy wins.

My cherry earrings made me smile this morning, and around my neck is a necklace my husband gave me after realizing I rarely wore my nicer jewelry. I was always afraid of losing the nice things he gave me or damaging them.

He knew me well enough to solve the real problem. At least a few couple of times.

Instead of buying something precious, he bought something I wouldn't be afraid to live in.

That's love in a practical form.

Not his forte.

The rose-colored aviators were the last thing I grabbed on my way out the door.

Maybe they're ironic.

Maybe they're optimistic.

Either way, they make me smile. Rose. Pink. Gold. Aviators. LOL.

I've been thinking a lot lately about how clothes become part of our stories.

A husband's old shirt.

Boots that aren't perfect but make you happy.

A necklace meant to be worn instead of protected.

None of these pieces are especially valuable.

But together they remind me that the things we reach for most often are usually the ones that let us feel most like ourselves.

And perhaps that's what style really is.

Not dressing to become someone else.

Dressing in a way that lets you … feel comfortable in your own skin.

And most days, that is what I want.

To feel comfortable in my own skin.