You walk by a lovely top in your closet you actually like. Where would you wear it? You’re working at home today. There’s laundry, a grocery run, maybe a walk. Not doing anything special today.
The old sweatshirt wins. The pretty top waits for a day that deserves it more.
I live on the outskirts of Spokane, Washington, and I understand the practical argument. Mud and dust are a thing here. So are dogs, children, household work, and weather that has no interest in my outfit. Nobody needs pretty shoes to collect eggs. I’m also a caregiver to my older brother, so I have every excuse in the book. But instead, I always find an excuse TO get dressed up.
And I’d like to point this out: “this doesn’t work for what I’m doing” and “there’s no point because nobody will see me” are two different reasons for getting dressed.
I want to talk about the second one.
Who gets to count as an occasion?
For most of us, getting dressed has an external trigger. A meeting. Church. Dinner. Someone coming over. There’s a reason to look like we gave our outfit some thought.
Without that trigger, we stop asking what we want to wear. We ask only what will get us through the day.
That can be freeing. You don’t owe the grocery store a polished appearance. But what does that mean when the aesthetic you love is only chosen on days someone else is there to appreciate it? Doesn’t that mean dressing for others?
The earrings stay in their box. We keep saving the dress, the tailored jacket, the pretty boots. You might like color, but your everyday clothes don’t show it.
Who, exactly, are you saving your nice garments, accessories, and style for?
Here’s something I wish more women felt comfortable with: our everyday life isn’t the waiting room between occasions and visits with others.
Tuesday at home is the same you. So is the drive to pick up groceries, the hour you spend writing, and the evening you hang out with your family. If most of your days are filled with these tasks, does that mean dressing yourself is a waste of time? Of course not. Here’s a rule I live by: wear the wardrobe that reflects the self you look up to. Simple. I don’t want to be stuck in a sweatpants era. Not because I don’t want comfort. Because I don’t want to be too casual. I want to be elegant and I like to have respect wherever I go. So, I dress up and I go to the grocry store or the Dr.’s office in nice clothes.
Bottom line: dress for the life you want by consulting with the version of yourself you look up to
When I say dress up, I mean put some intention into getting dressed. The degree of formality is up to you.
Here’s me on the day of writing this. (It’s a basic Thursday.)
Comfortable clothes in a color you love (and which loves you back) can do that. So can jeans that fit without constant adjustment, a pair of earrings you’ve been saving, or outerwear you genuinely love.
An outfit should let you move through your real day. If it makes you miserable, keeps you from doing the work, or turns the morning into another performance review, it needs changing.
Comfort belongs in the plan. So does pleasure.
I’m interested in the difference between “I chose this because it feels good and suits my life” and “I stopped choosing because I don’t think my ordinary life warrants the effort.” From the outside, those choices might look the same. You’re the only one who knows the difference.
Listen to the explanation you give yourself
“I’m just a mom/grandma/online writer/remote worker.”
“I don’t go anywhere.”
“People would think I was trying too hard.”
“That’s not really me anymore.”
Sometimes these are accurate descriptions of a preference or a season in life, but sometimes they close the conversation before you’ve had a chance to lock in on what you actually prefer.
In her new book Conversations, Vanessa Van Edwards explores self-narrative: the story someone tells herself about herself. Her work has me paying closer attention to the explanations underneath everyday choices, and asking for the story rather than settling for the usual.
My question here is this: did you lose interest in getting dressed, or did you lose the circumstances that gave you permission to enjoy it?
Maybe you love your quieter life. You don’t miss commuting, office politics, or uncomfortable shoes. You still miss seeing some part of your taste when you look in the mirror. Those feelings can coexist.
Living in the country describes your address. It doesn’t have to settle every question about your style.
You are one of the people experiencing you
The usual advice is to dress for how you want others to perceive you. There are times when that matters. An interview, a client meeting, or a presentation has a context you need to understand.
At home, you are still there.
You see your sleeves while you type. You feel the waistband that pinches. You catch your reflection on the way past a window. You live with those choices for hours, even when no one comments on them.
That doesn’t mean a better outfit will fix your confidence or make you more productive. I’m making a smaller claim: your own experience of wearing something is a sufficient reason to consider it.
You can like the way a blue shirt looks beside your face without turning it into a strategy. You can wear something beautiful while doing something ordinary. Pleasure doesn’t need a professional justification.
Make it easier than opting out
If every attempt requires twenty minutes, special laundry, and shoes you can’t walk in, the system is wrong for your life.
Start with what you own. Put together two or three combinations that work for your actual days, including the weather and the work. Hang each combination together if that helps. Keep the earrings beside the clothes rather than tucked away for a hypothetical occasion.
For a day at home, that might mean comfortable jeans and the turquoise sweater instead of the faded shirt you don’t particularly like. For outdoor work, it might mean leaving the work clothes alone and changing afterward, even if you aren’t going out.
The useful question is specific: what small choice would make this feel more like me without making the day harder?
And if you’re in a season of illness, caregiving, grief, or sheer exhaustion, please don’t turn this into another standard you’re failing. Some days the kindest outfit is whatever you can manage. Clothes do not measure how much you respect yourself. You don’t owe anyone visual proof that you’re coping.
Try it on a day with nothing scheduled
Pick an ordinary day this week. Spend five minutes choosing something workable that you actually enjoy. Use what you already have; this experiment needs no checkout page.
Before you put it on, notice any objection. Too much? Wasteful? No point? Who would I be doing this for?
Write down the sentence. Then get on with your day.
Later, ask what you noticed. Did you enjoy the color? Were you more comfortable? Did you recognize a preference you had been dismissing? Or did the outfit get in your way? That answer is useful too. Adjust it.
You are finding out what suits you. There is no correct emotional result.
Tell me about a time you wore something you loved on an ordinary day. What made you choose it? If nothing comes to mind, tell me about the piece you keep saving—and what you’re waiting for.
One more thing: don’t dismiss something you love just because wearing it doesn’t feel authentic yet.
Sometimes “that’s not me” means “I’m not used to seeing myself this way.” Maybe you’ve worn the same practical clothes for years. Maybe someone once asked why you were so dressed up, and you decided you didn’t want to explain yourself again.
Give the outfit a few ordinary days before deciding. Wear the earrings while you write. Put on the pretty boots for the grocery run. See whether you enjoy them once the initial self-consciousness settles.
If something still feels uncomfortable or gets in your way, adjust it. But if you like it and your only objection is “Who dresses like this on a Tuesday?” The answer can be, “I do, that’s who!”
Tell me about the piece you keep saving. What are you waiting for?
Tatyana, thank you so much for this article. I have more clothes than many small shops and they just hang in the closet. I'm going to make an effort to shock my family and "dress up". By the way, this is the first photo I've seen of you -- you are gorgeous!
When you’re working from home or running errands, do you tend to just pull on the “nobody that matters will see me anyway” outfit? I’m here to say that someone who matters sees you in the mirror every day and nice clothes can transform your confidence, how productive you are, and even how happy you feel. Elevate even if just a little every day. 💜