Wardrobe Updates – Spring 2024

Recently, I passed on a bag of maternity wear to a friend who’s currently expecting. The small assortment of well-loved clothes included a pair of MVP bamboo tanks, some bump-hugging yoga shorts, and a few of the dresses I wore on repeat last summer. It makes me a little wistful — a little sad — to be parting with artifacts from those magical, transformative months of life. Yet, in the same breath, it feels liberating to be back in clothes fit for one.

Minus these items I’ve parted with, my wardrobe is still a jumbled mess at the moment. High on my to-do list is a thorough closet refresh. This includes going through the tub of clothes I packed away last year, filled with things I knew I wouldn’t be wearing in the late stages of pregnancy or the initial postpartum period. Now, having survived the newborn grind, like my daughter who’s recently discovered the joys of yanking handkerchiefs from a toy tissue box, I’m also eager to reach into the trove and pull out something fun to play to with.

Wardrobe Additions

My challenge to limit clothing consumption this year is off to a good pace, though not owed to much effort on my part. Looking after a baby has largely taken over the share of brain space that used to be occupied by material hankerings. But not completely. So far I’ve welcomed two secondhand items into my life: one a slightly frivolous accent piece and the other a sweater that I’m probably going to resell (but I’m not mad about it). 

First up is a pistachio green wide wale corduroy shirt, purchased from a fancy neighbourhood boutique after a solid month of ogling it through the storefront window. At $80 CAD, I paid way too much for it — it’s the kind of thing I might thrift for $10-20 at my usual haunts. But there it was, hanging on the rail at this conveniently located shop I’d pass on my way to the library every week. After doing some online digging and determining that vintage shirts the colour of milky matcha are not so easy to procure, I decided to make it my first semi-spontaneous purchase of the year.

While the price point was higher than I would’ve preferred, I’m learning that buying clothes as a new mom involves embracing convenience and serendipity, while letting go of time-consuming searches for the perfect find + deal combo. It doesn’t mean I ought to lap up whatever comes my way or make every shopping opportunity count with a trip to the register. Rather, it’s trusting my gut and giving a pass to special, select pieces (particularly those encountered in person) that might not hit all of my criteria — pieces that will make an impact in my closet right now. This bold, spunky shirt is just that: a well-made, utilitarian garment that pushes me out of my comfort zone with its springy shade of green. After months of cold and gloom, the collar of this shirt peeking out under my jacket is like a greening bud pushing through the heaviness of a dark winter wardrobe.

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  Margaret Howell Guernsey

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  Le Tricoteur Guernsey

Moving from a fun, spontaneous addition to something more strategic, I bought a secondhand Le Tricoteur Guernsey (or gansey — here’s a great video about them from Rajiv Surendra) sweater off of Poshmark for recon purposes, knowing that I probably wouldn’t keep it. A Guernsey-style knit has long been on my radar; I love the look of these hardworking garments, traditionally worn by fishermen across the British Isles, with their clever details and motifs. After spending copious amounts of time researching and hunting for them in niche corners of the Internet, I’d developed a bit of an obsession — despite never having touched one in real life. Over the years, I’d come close to acquiring a Guernsey on multiple occasions. The most recent near-purchase was a cropped version in merino wool from Margaret Howell, a stunning knit I wish I could’ve appreciated up close in person. Alas, even discounted, it felt like too much to drop on a single garment, especially something I’d only admired in concept.

At that point, I decided to pump the gas on my pursuit of the perfect Guernsey and start looking for some more affordable entry options to test out — to shatter the mythical, elusive status this item had taken on in my brain. Online, I couldn’t find much in my size and price range secondhand, and I’ve never been so lucky to spy one in local stores. For a while, it looked like the most promising avenue was to order a modestly-priced (but still expensive) sweater from Le Tricoteur, a brand that kept coming up in my queries. But, unexpectedly, I spotted this warm, taupey Guernsey of the same make on Poshmark at a much more wallet-friendly price. After a few weeks of consideration, I decided to take the plunge even though I knew it would fit too oversized based on the measurements. 

This sweater did a few things for me:

• It confirmed that I really like the Guernsey neckline and boxy shape on me, as well as the weight of the dense knit
• I learned that my delicate cashmere-and-merino-habituated skin has a hard time tolerating the roughness of traditional English worsted wool (though I know there are tricks that can be employed to soften the fibres)
• It helped me figure out the sizing and fit I wanted for my ideal Guernsey sweater (wide and cropped)
• It saved me from spending hundreds of dollars on a brand new item from overseas just to glean the insights above

While this particular Guernsey is not the one for me, it’s helped me discern and draw more specificity around what I’m ideally looking for. Back to the point about not having capacity to be consumed by quests for holy grail fashion items right now, I am deprioritizing this from my wishlist until I can afford to invest proper time and money into finding something I’ll delightedly wear until it looks like the frayed, seaworn jumpers of the Guernsey’s original wearers.

Wardrobe Care

One last quick thing I want to share are these slightly wonky, but character-adding mends I recently made to a pair of wool socks that were going threadbare at the heels. I’ve been trying to pick up simple sewing tasks in the evenings to decompress from my whirlwind days, an alternative to mindless phone-scrolling. Being a creative person, I have no shortage of ideas for ambitious projects that I want to take on — from composing a soft book out of fabric scraps for my daughter to drafting my dream nursing top. As the vast majority of those lofty plans fall to the wayside, though, I’ve been enjoying the meditative simplicity of punching stitches into worn fabric during my few precious moments of quiet. It’s self care in the form of warm, hole-less socks.