We cannot escape decisions. What are you doing this weekend—or with your life? Would you like room in your coffee; to add guacamole—it’s extra. To Tinder, or not to Tinder?
My obsession with white blouses started because I was tired of making yet another decision; looking into my closet and not having a clue how to wear anything I owned—and when did I suddenly own so much? It was an existential conundrum, if you will.
Enter the perfect white blouse: crisp, clean, and sustainably made. She’s from Everlane and she changed my life. You know the feeling of putting something on, looking in the mirror, and thinking fuck ya, I look good.
Here I am almost a year later and my collection of white blouses has grown to eight, and the feeling is the same with each of them. People always ask me if I get bored of constantly wearing white blouses, and I want to ask them if they get decision fatigue. I never look in my closet and think: I have nothing to wear, because like a trusty steed, my white blouses are always there to whisk me away. In the unfortunate event that I have to deviate from my blouse-y plan and attend a themed party or actually dress up, I just raid my roommate’s closet (it’s like a circus in there).
My specifications for my blouses are as follows: can I wear it without a bra? Is it comfortable? How do I feel in it? Dressing almost exclusively in white blouses keeps you hyper-aware of the world around you. I think that’s called being present, or at least, stain-aversive. That’s it. The end. Now go enjoy your day.
Words by Chloe Popove.