The Capsule Wardrobe is a mirage. It is an illusion. A promise of streamlined, effortless elegance and poise that can never quite be. I have always been fascinated, and I will read ANYTHING about capsule wardrobes, from any source. You know the formula: Easy, high quality pieces. Careful investments. A tiny, discerning rail of clothes that will take you from Sue Pollard to Audrey Hepburn, ready for any occasion. But we all know deep down that it’s the same editorial nonsense as Day to Night Makeup or a Detox Diet Plan: an advert for more stuff disguised as copy. And there is something no one else seems to be saying: some of the suggested classics are BAD! Actively unflattering! Let’s explore, take down and suggest some more compus mentus alternatives.
If your husband doesn’t make an inspector gadget joke when you wear a trench, are you even wearing it?
Look, I get it: Audrey and Hubert de Givenchy walk along the Seine, probably discussing air fryers and whether they will get one. Audrey wears a pale trench, belted tightly at the waist so she looks like a lovely austere beige bonbon. She looks capable, elegant, clever, warm.
So, you order yourself a trench and think YES! I too shall be those things! And you wait and the package arrives and you open it and try it on and you look into the mirror and you are met with this:
Look, It’s not your fault! The trench is a very difficult item, it’s not an easy classic, far from it. For one, the colour: That hearing aid beige is at best a stain magnet, at worst a skin greying succubus, pulling all the colour from your face. The there’s the two rows of double breasted buttons, the belt and belt loops, the storm flaps, sometimes even fucking epaulettes. There’s too much going on, it’s so fussy! It makes you look like a toddler busy board.
Obviously there is a tall, willowy WASP woman that will look fantastic in this, but she is the exception, not the rule.
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