Once upon a time, I had a skirt I wore to death. A wrapover mini in navy windowpane check, it wasn’t especially on-trend but it was one of the most flattering and versatile things I’d ever owned. I wore it endlessly – or, until I accidentally shrunk it in the wash. I cried.
My thoughts returned to that skirt often as the years passed, until one day I did what we all do with old flames: I looked it up online. And there it was, on Vinted, looking as good as the day we’d first met. Nearly a decade on, the skirt and I are back together once again. A fairytale for the ages! I exclusively handwash it now.
The moral of this story is not that you, too, must buy a wrapover mini in navy windowpane check, but rather that I believe we have been sold a lie about “basics” and “staples”.
I grew up believing that a grownup wardrobe wasn’t complete without the following items: a trench coat, a grey cashmere sweater, a little black dress, a perfectly fitting pair of jeans and a crisp white shirt. It is a template for timeless chic, based – as far as I can tell – on a handful of semi-mythical French women, and yet perpetuated by fashion editors across continents for decades.
I spent more years than I care to count trying to source the crisp white shirt that would finally unlock my je ne sais quoi, before eventually coming to terms with the fact that I am simply not a crisp white shirt sort of person (I am a crisp person, but sadly there’s little overlap). Rather, I am a swishy style person, a leopard print person, a giant-sleeves-that-might-drag-in-the-soup kind of person. And maybe you are too.
Capsule wardrobes – and their spiritual cousin, uniform dressing – are championed by sustainability folk for good reason. They can be an antidote to the consumer overwhelm of the contemporary fashion system; a way to free up time, energy and brain space that might otherwise be wasted on endless shopping. Having a wardrobe where each piece works hard and can be worn in multiple ways is a universally good idea. But the key to success is not following a set menu of one-size-fits-all chicness. It’s making sure each piece works hard for you.
Beyond the obvious (some tops, some bottoms, a coat, shoes you’re able to walk in without wincing), the building blocks of a wardrobe will be different for everyone.
Nobody has ever said: “What every wardrobe needs is a wrapover mini in navy windowpane check!”, and yet it’s a piece I pull out time and time again, and rely on to make me feel pulled-together (“pulled-together” is one of fashion’s favourite descriptors; apparently we want our staples to live up to their namesake). Likewise, there’s a wool sweater vest which I bought three years ago and have worn upwards of 100 times since. Sweater vests are not a “classic” as Audrey Hepburn ever decreed it, but if I can wear something in both January and July and layer it as easily over a nice dress and a thermal rollneck, then it’s a staple to me.
To establish what the workhorses of your own wardrobe are, don’t look to influencers or fashion editors, but instead back at your own photo albums. What are the pieces you have loved and worn to death at various times through your life? Are there common themes? Nobody’s saying you should try to revive the exact pleather jacket you daubed song lyrics on with correction fluid aged 17 – but if biker jackets have been a piece you’ve always gravitated towards, then perhaps now is the time to head to Vinted and invest in a really grownup preloved version. Ditto knitwear, blazers, slip dresses, boots. Look for the best quality version you can afford, of the things you’ve bought cheaply on repeat.
Another myth about capsule wardrobes is that they must be a sepia haze of plain greige, black and neutrals, so that everything “goes together”. Yes, it’s sensible to make sure every purchase works with multiple outfits you already own – but there’s no reason they can’t be a riot of colour and print, if that’s your vibe. Avoid microtrends and faddy embellishments, but don’t be afraid to buy the kind of attention-seeking clothes people cross the street to compliment. You’re more likely to wear something forever if it makes your heart sing.
Other pieces doing big numbers in my wardrobe at the moment include a pair of chunky (but comfy) black leather loafers from Vinted that work with everything and make me feel 20% more pulled-together than trainers do, and a vintage bottle-green leather blazer with a dagger collar that is only getting better with age. Meanwhile, my classic but unloved black leather biker jacket is being listed on Vinted, to become a loved staple in someone else’s wardrobe. Maybe yours. Please don’t cover it in correction fluid.
Finally, after years in the denim wilderness, I’ve returned to the flared silhouette that I know my swishy soul loves best, with a pair of jeans from an iconic brand, secondhand via Vinted.
However, and I realise this might sound radical: if you’ve spent your whole life trying to find your perfect pair of jeans with no joy, it is OK to simply stop wearing jeans. Contrary to what we’ve been led to believe, they’re not compulsory. And learning when to let an “investment opportunity” pass us by is perhaps the most grownup thing of all.
From swishy sleeves to animal prints. Whatever your vibe, find it on Vinted.
Photography: Phill Taylor/The Guardian. Hair and makeup: Bethany Anderson. Prop stylist: Zan Morley
