Why I Bought StyleBook (and a Few Thoughts on Intention)

This year, week one of January 2016, I paid $3.99 for the StyleBook app. I then spent roughly six and a half hours carefully photographing my winter clothing on contrasting backgrounds and finger-editing the items that wouldn’t upload cleanly.

Before I explain the “why,” let me give you a picture of the previous year: Jess shambles in to work most days with clothes on (a win) and her hair blow-dried (another win) and sits at a desk to work (on a yoga ball — win). Her jeans are developing holes that are beyond repair; her t-shirts (if one were to count) date back to pre-graduation years (graduation: 2007). She is working hard, and constantly learning new things, but feels stuck, unable to implement any of it, and the frustration is beginning to show in more ways than one.

Here’s the thing: I want to go somewhere in my career, sooner rather than later. And I realized, about halfway through Elizabeth Gilbert’s Magic Lessons podcast, that I’m holding myself back. Little things we’re barely aware of create mental load (we talk about this concept a lot in UX). For instance: the five boxes of unpacked books in our basement that I love but have no room for. They followed me around for almost three years, a little string tied to my brain, tugging now and then. Demanding a portion of my mental load. Same with my clothes: getting dressed every morning was becoming a chore. I couldn’t find something new or interesting to wear, so I was settling into the same five combinations of clothes, all old and squishy and familiar. Another thread to follow me through the day, reminding me I could barely manage to dress myself like a grown up.

And there are even more things — more threads — tied to my brain that if I’d just address them promptly, I’d be so much lighter. The crooked kitchen rug. That recycling bag that should be carried to the bin. The pair of boots by the door that just need to go in the closet. Remembering to push the driver’s side seat back so Dave doesn’t bang his knee. Little tiny things, but they all have strings, and they all are tugging on me.

Here’s the catch: I always have the intention of doing these things, of snipping these threads that pull at my brain. But “knowing and doing are two different things” (thank you, Mom). Intention is good, but the people around us can’t read intention; they can read action.

So Liz Gilbert tipped me over the edge, and I spent a day sorting through books. I only kept the ones that I had strong emotional reactions to — everything else was donated to the City Library, because if I ever NEED to go visit them, I’ll know where they are. (Which is baloney, but it helped me choose, so I ran with it.)

And after receiving new clothes and money for shopping over Christmas, I bought the StyleBook app. One of the biggest stresses in my day is deciding what to wear. We don’t have a dress code at Clearlink, so styles range from jeans and a tee to full business attire. I could feel myself sliding to the college student end of that scale. And it occurred to me: If I can’t take myself seriously enough to dress nicely, will anyone else?

So six and a half hours (and a bottle of wine) later, the app contains all my clothes. And when I go shopping, I can tell that I need to avoid neutrals, stripes, and shades of red (I have plenty) and pick out button-downs and bright colors. Just this week alone I’ve felt more in control and less panicked about going through my closet in the morning.