After I spent last week focusing on the clothing shapes that I enjoy wearing, I decided that this week I would bust out my camera and Amy Herzog‘s Knit to Flatter and spend some time getting familiar with my own shape. Unlike basically everyone I’ve ever met, I love having my picture taken. If I see a camera coming, I do not dive behind the nearest person/piece of furniture/houseplant and pretend like I’m invisible—I beam like someone has just rolled out the red carpet for me personally. I’m also not shy around mirrors, although in my defense, it’s usually because I’m having a Hermione-ish “Is that what my hair looks like from the back?” moment.

At least, I normally love having my picture taken. There were declarations of love and self-acceptance and empowered fist pumping right up until the moment I dumped the photos on my computer and opened them up. In addition to cringing at the picture quality, I spent several minutes questioning whether this exercise was still a good idea.

I don’t have any issues with my measurements or weight—they’re just numbers, and having the right ones are essential to getting clothes that actually fit. But for some reason scrutinizing my shape, which is supposed to be a lot less emotionally charged, since according to Amy understanding your shape is the starting point for creating visual balance through clothing, was more than a little uncomfortable.

It’s not that my shape is a surprise or revelation. I’ve understood for a while now that I have a straight proportional figure, which is confirmed by the lines on the photo below:

The awkward wrinkle near my bellybutton is the waistband of my leggings, which I pulled up to avoid creating a mini muffin top.

Looking at the side view, I can add that I have an average-sized bust, a curvy booty, and a little extra tum to (literally) round things out.

In truth, it was hard not too look at that photo and think, “My stomach sticks out as far as my chest.” Which may be true, but then I have to ask myself why that matters so much. I’ve never had washboard abs, and it’s not really a thing I aspire to anyway. (I hate ab workouts; you can’t lift heavy things with your abs, you know?) While I certainly do need to be more active, because I understand the risks of the sedentary lifestyle of an office dweller and I definitely start to feel lethargic and heavy when I do nothing but sit all day, I also understand that I’m not physically unfit, either.

Also, let’s get real—how often do I or anyone else I know walk around in nothing but spandex that clings to every curve? (Okay, so this is basically my at-home uniform, but I don’t make a habit of going out in public like this.) No one else is looking at me this closely and sizing up whether I’d look better in a v-neck or crew-neck sweater. A healthy body, clad in clothes that fit well and a happy smile, is all that matters.

I had to repeat that to myself a few times before it really started to sink in. Admiring a gallery of photos of my favorite short, curvy sewing blogger, who is hilariously funny and completely fearless, definitely helped. And reminding myself that I already have too many hobbies to juggle without adding “worry about body image” to the list was the final kick in the pants I needed to get back to focusing on the fact that I’m on a journey toward a more awesome wardrobe, not a one-way trip to Sad Town—so enough criticizing!

Based on my shape and extra features, Knit to Flatter recommends the following elements to maintain the balanced proportions I have:

• High-hip or mid-hip length sweaters with deep, narrow necklines and elbow-length or longer sleeves
• Sweaters with an interesting hem treatment to balance wide necklines and three-quarter sleeves
• Short or average length sweaters with plain hems to complement crew necks or turtlenecks with any length sleeves

Of the three, the first and third options are the ones I tend to gravitate toward, and are the ones most represented in my closet already. Knit to Flatter doesn’t address pants (because it’s a sweater knitting book), but I’m finding that it’s best to wear heeled boots or pumps with slightly flared pants and stick to skinny pants whenever I wear flats. Straight or wide-legged pants don’t really do my short frame any favors, even with heels, so I generally avoid them.

If I throw all of the information about the shape I am, the shapes that make me look balanced, and the shapes I like to wear into a blender, I should be able to come up with plenty of silhouettes for next week’s assignment no problem, right?

Compared to the previous weeks’ assignments, this week’s exercise was a breeze. Rather than a battery of questions that benefited from deep reflection or a wide search for inspiration, it consists of tables of common style elements found in clothing and asks you to rate them on how much you loved or hated them. Sarai even encourages participants to go with their guts and not to second-guess their decisions—marking something favorably or unfavorably doesn’t in any way represent a commitment to sewing something or not sewing something else.

For anyone who else who has gone or is going through the exercises, I want to point out that I did deviate from the instructions in one small but meaningful way. Instead of using a 0-10 system to indicate how much I liked something, I used a simpler four-point scale:

0 – I would never wear this
1 – I would rarely wear this
2 – I would sometimes wear this
3 – I would always wear this

I chose this approach for two reasons: 1) It’s a lot less prone to over-analysis, since I felt like I could rate each style individually rather than trying to rank styles against each other, and 2) By framing the question in terms of things I would wear rather than things I do wear, I don’t feel like my answers are in any way constrained by my current wardrobe/dressing habits.

Now I think it’s time to let the numbers do the talking.

A few things stood out to me:

• I like wearing skirts, but since it’s been so long since I’ve actually worn one—a combination of purging several that no longer fit comfortably and favoring pants in the winter because I chill easily—I don’t have particularly strong feelings about skirt shapes.
• Any time that I strongly liked a very fitted shape, it was because I was imagining it in a knit, or at the very least a stretch woven. I’m a lot less fond of snug woven fabrics.
• I had no idea what a jewel neckline was. Apparently it’s synonymous with crew neck. I’m not sure why you’d choose to use one term over the other; I guess “jewel neck” is considered a prettier or more feminine way to describe the neckline of a dress than “crew neck,” which has martial connotations?
• Like many people (I imagine), I’m loath to say I’d never wear something—hey, if the right outfit came along, I could be persuaded, you know?—but I’ve finally realized that having sleeves stop at my waist, which is not narrow, does me no visual favors, and off-the-shoulder tops are just a pain, so why bother with either? It was kind of liberating to say, “Nope, not for me!”

What do you think of rating styles like this? When you think about your own preferences, are there any surprising favorites or seemingly conflicting preferences? Are there any styles you feel confident you would never wear?

The first time I read the title of this week’s assignment, I thought, “Wait, what? Isn’t this the whole point of the Wardrobe Architect series?” I was uneasy about having to pin down my core style in a single exercise, because if I haven’t been able to do it in a little over two-and-a-half decades of being alive, how am I supposed to tackle it in an hour or two? (Or five or six hours, if you count all the time I spent surfing for inspiration images.)

Luckily, this exercise isn’t about picking specific garments, colors, or patterns—those all come later, and one at a time—but about sifting through the emotional responses you have to clothes. Like Sarai points out, we usually know what we like. So the goal here is to identify how the clothes you like make you feel, and how the clothes you don’t like make you feel, and, if you’re like me, how you want your clothes to make you feel.

When you are wearing your favorite clothing, how do you feel (e.g. confident, sexy, poised, powerful, etc.)?

My favorite clothing makes me feel mature and polished, but comfortable. I like things that are feminine without being fussy. “Sexy” tends to carry provocative connotations, and I prefer something that’s more understated—something that doesn’t cry “Look at me!” but that invites an admiring look. My favorite clothes make me feel alluring, and hearken to ideas of classic beauty.

When you’re wearing something that is not quite right, how do you feel? What are the feelings you want to avoid about the clothes you wear?

I touched on this last week, but I hate anything that makes me feel constricted or bulky. I also hate anything that makes me feel frumpy or drab, because it reinforces the feeling that I’m lazy with my appearance. I try to avoid anything that makes me feel the least bit childish, since I already have to fight to convince people of my age, and I resent anything that should make me look and feel like grown-up but instead makes me feel like an impostor to adulthood. All of these things make me feel both self-conscious and alienated, which are a pair of opposites that feel a lot like being overly caffeinated while also being completely exhausted.

Who do you consider to be your style icons? What is it about them that appeals to you?

I struggled with this question more than any of the others this week or last week. Because I don’t follow fashion or any kind of celebrity, I hardly knew where to look for ideas. I started with the women named in the essay—Audrey Hepburn, Jackie O, Katherine Hepburn, Brigitte Bardot, Alexa Chung, Solange Knowles, Sofia Coppola—but none of them were close. I thought about actresses I think are pretty, like Emma Watson and Hayden Panettiere, but they didn’t really capture it either. I ran through a list of names I could think of, even pulling up more obscure celebrities whose style I knew nothing about, with no success.

While I certainly think that everyone is entitled to their privacy, I couldn’t help but feel frustrated that most or all of the images I could find were from high-profile events. What do these women wear in their day-to-day lives? Obviously they’re not gadding about in evening gowns. Do they wear jeans? Dresses? A rainbow of colors? A uniform of jeans and white button-downs? I want to see what they look like when they’re being people, not just famous actresses and singers and dancers and directors.

Finally, I remembered a fashion blogger that I’d followed for some time before I realized that reading her posts was making me feel bad about myself instead of inspired, and I unsubscribed. That feeling was not the blogger’s fault, though, so I pulled up her most recent post and was reminded why I liked her so much: Jean from Extra Petite always looks put-together without being overdressed, and she’s great at mixing colors, prints, and textures in a way that feels layered but not chaotic. She embodies the kind of style that I’m currently aspiring toward.

What are some words that describe styles that you like in theory, but are not quite you?

I understand why some women gravitate toward vintage, but it’s just not my thing. I like things that are comfortable, but not too relaxed or oversized. I want to look and feel feminine, but I don’t care for things that are too soft, like ruffles or ditsy florals. On the other end of the spectrum, I don’t really pull off bold, edgy, or adventurous styles unless I’m in costume. I need more color in my life, but I don’t think I’m wired for a vibrant, technicolor wardrobe.

Look over your answers from last week on history, philosophy, culture, community, activities, location, and body. List at least 15 words that you associate with your answers. Think about descriptive words, moods, and feelings you associate with these things.

unselfconscious, professional, slim, trim, poised, effortless, ready, put-together, fresh, classic, classy, polished, timeless, mature, feminine, unfussy

Are there other words you would like to add to this list? What other words describe your core style?

Nope, that’s it. I already reused a couple to answer the last question. 🙂

Look over the answers to all of the questions above. If you had to narrow your list to only 3-5 words to describe you, which words would you choose?

classic, polished, comfortable, poised, feminine

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Now for the fun and/or stressful bit: trying to find images that capture those ideas. I don’t currently follow any fashion blogs, and I’ve already established that I am completely out of touch with the world of celebrity (the blessing and curse of having no cable TV), so finding sources for images was a challenge. I had an idea of what I was looking for, in a sense, but how do you search for a mood?

I resorted to trawling through Jean’s posts, then checking out nearly all of the blogs in her blogroll. As a result, a lot of the inspiration images I looked at featured petite Asian-American women. I am 100% okay with this.

Photo sources from left to right, top to bottom: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10 // 11 // 12 // 13 // 14 // 15 // 16 // 17 // 18

Already I can see trends: skinny pants, stripes, pumps (especially brightly colored ones), blazers and cardigans, and skirts that hit just above the knee. I tried to include some handknits, because knitting is a big part of my creative life these days, but it can be tricky to find handknits that are actually styled like regular clothes. Overall I think these photos may be a little heavy on woven fabrics, since I much prefer the comfort of knits (or stretch wovens with spandex), but that’s something I can sort out down the road. For now, I think this is a really good starting place. I’m finally starting to feel like maybe I have a modicum of style after all.

What captivated me about the Wardrobe Architect series was the way it expressed thoughts I’ve had many times before:

Do you sometimes feel overwhelmed by the endless bounty of prettiness on the internet?

Sometimes you might wonder, how do I combine all of these disparate things that I like into something that actually feels like me?

But just because you like something, that does not mean it fits you. Enjoying looking at something doesn’t mean it has a deep connection to who you are, necessarily. Some things are just nice to look at and appreciate on their own.

When I first read those lines, I immediately thought, “THIS. Exactly this.” I’ve never been one to collect magazine clippings or keep a pinboard (analog or digital), and I think that’s because I see a lot of things I like—that are designed to be liked, photographed in the right setting with the right lighting and the right accessories—but that I don’t like like. It was a relief to have someone say, “It’s okay to appreciate the beauty of something without making it a part of your personal story.”

As a writer, narrative is a fascinating concept to me, with applications far beyond the written or even spoken word. Once, when pressed to explain why I didn’t seem to have a desire to pursue a certain path in life, I found that the best way to describe it was this: It’s just not part of the story I tell myself about myself.

But what is part of that story? That’s the starting point of the Wardrobe Architect series, and that’s what I’m going to share below.

History: How has your personal history informed the way you dress? When did your tastes crystalize? Have they changed over the years, and why?

My tastes have not yet crystallized. In middle school I didn’t care at all what I wore, and I frequently dressed in sweatpants, hugely oversized t-shirts, and sweatshirts. In high school, I started to care a bit about clothes, but since I was accustomed to oversized outfits, I bought things that were too large and large unflattering. In college, I wanted to look as put together as my logo-ed and brand-clad classmates, but I didn’t have the money or the direction and often reverted to jeans and hoodies. Now, at 27 years old, I want to look like a mature professional woman, but I still want to have a bit of youth and playfulness in my outfits. I finally want to look like I’ve got everything together. Unlike other areas of my life, my clothes don’t reflect my sense of self, my awareness of my own expressive voice.

Philosophy: How does your philosophy, spirituality, or religion affect your aesthetics and buying habits? Or, what aspects of those things would you like to see reflected?

In terms of buying habits, I’d like to be more supportive of environmentally sustainable, ethically made clothing. I value handmade and want to incorporate more of it into my wardrobe in a way that is still practical and stylish. I also value small and independent businesses, and I’m lucky enough to live in an area where there are many thriving, so I’m trying to seek out these businesses when it makes sense to do so. In terms of aesthetics, I don’t want to be ashamed of the attractive parts of my body, and I don’t want to dress with false modesty or prudishness.

Culture: How has your cultural background shaped the way you look? How did the aesthetics and values you grew up with affect your tastes as you got older?

Growing up in a middle class family of modest income has led to a focus on getting affordable clothing, often in the form of inexpensive, solid-colored separates. I’m slowly unlearning this habit, because I’d prefer to buy a few well-made things, and I’d like more pattern and texture in my closet.

Recently, I’ve also reacted by wanting, irrationally, to emulate styles that I’m not actually comfortable in. For example, I’ll see several bloggers I admire showing off the latest indie pattern release, and they’ve done such a good job of putting together a vibrant, attractive outfit that it will trick me into thinking that I too want to wear an at-waist skirt or a boxy top (I don’t).

Community: How are you influenced by the people around you, including friends, family, and other communities you’re involved in?

When I was in middle and high school, I had a few close female friends whose conservative style heavily influenced (and at times overrode) my own. Now, almost 10 years after my high school graduation, I don’t have any female friends that take an interest in fashion, so I don’t have any role models in that regard. I’m not in touch with the world of celebrity, so I’ve never gravitated toward a style icon. More than anything else, it was sewing and knitting blogs that encouraged me to consider and develop my own sense of style.

Activities: How do your day-to-day activities influence your choices?

Because I’m a driven person that needs to always be doing something, I appreciate clothes that transition well from office to errands to crafting to lounging. Comfort often trumps style for me, and nearly all of my clothing is made from knits or stretch wovens.

Location: Does the place you live inform the way you dress? How does climate factor in?

I live in a place that has four seasons, so having hot, cold, and transitional weather clothing is important to me. I’m also often cold, so outfits that layer well are key. This is going to sound ridiculous, but outfits that look good with (or don’t show) socks are also really important.

Body: In what ways does body image affect your choices in clothing? What clothes make you feel good about the body you live in? What clothes make you feel uncomfortable or alienated from your body?

I like clothes that emphasize that I’m slim or make me look curvier. I dislike clothes that make me feel straight, thick-waisted, stocky, heavy-legged, thick-ankled, or small-chested. I also dislike clothes that are constricting through the waist or arms.

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It was liberating to get all of that down on paper. (I wrote it out long-hand before typing everything up.) When it’s all swirling around in your head, it’s easy to feel like your preferences are hang-ups and your self-image is a form of judgment. But when it’s all written down, it’s easier to look at everything as facts that can be examined. Through writing, the past is transformed from a stumbling block to a stepping stone.