Last summer, I began a 100-day dress challenge with Wool&. Here’s what I learnt.
A 100-day dress challenge has transformed the way I think about clothes, and it’s not like I went in with a conscious long-term plan either. I just wanted to have a go, and see where it took me.
Two hundred and sixty-five days later, my wardrobe is a fraction of what it used to be — and it’s still shrinking. I am literally making plans to sell off the numerous investment pieces that I’ve accumulated over the years and barely worn more than once or twice. They hark back to a busier social and professional life when I could still attend parties and award events, and lead prestigious art gallery tours.
But priorities have changed now. I need that reflected in what I wear.
Last month, following my mother’s move into a care home, I visited her old house for a pre-sale clear-out. Of course — as is our human wont — upon opening her wardrobe and breathing in the smell of its contents, my head filled with vibrant, Super-8 memories of my mother, unhooking and flinging precious silks, linen and tailored jackets on her bed of a bright Sunday afternoon, ready for play. Sometimes she’d have a captive audience (usually me or my sisters, occasionally my father), watching her whoop and prance around with amusement.
My mother was quite the family doyenne of secondhand chic. She was always complimented on her dress sense, a reflection of a talent for cost-effective styling honed over many years of scouring flea markets and charity shops. She collected clothes the way the National Gallery in London collects art: changing their presentation subtly with the seasons, adeptly curated for colour, cut, style, fabric, print, theme.
Unfortunately, she also had hoarding tendencies. In later years these were aggravated by a growing interest in High Street fashion, especially when the dementia started taking hold. She maintained her high standards, but not in the edit. By the time of her move, she’d accumulated far more than necessary for even a lady of leisure.
For decades I knew about her bulging wardrobes and chests of drawers, but not quite the full extent. Back at the house, just when I thought I’d emptied one wardrobe, I found around 30 pairs of stretch slim-fit jeans , barely worn. It seems that she went through all the shops, perpetually searching for and finding the perfect fit, and bought more anyway.
It was a sharp reminder of the enormous value we place on presenting ourselves to the world every day, and the steep, ecological cost of maintaining that habit. To be fair, I am likely only less inclined to hoard because I don’t have the same luxury of time to shop, and anyway I have sacrificed ample living space to my disabled child’s equipment needs for far too long.
As a parent-carer given to rigorous daily physical exertions (hoist and seat transfers, physio, 1-to-1 interventions), I need clothes that withstand more wear and tear than fine cashmere, draped silk or linen can, and to balance that with my mother’s legacy (I love clothes too).
Last year, the US-based Wool& brand was featured in The Guardian after a journalist took part in their 100-day dress challenge. I decided this could be the answer I needed, albeit with trepidation: all their dresses came in merino wool, a fabric I didn’t particularly like. Merino wool and I had never got on well before. The last time I put on a merino wool dress, I sweated so much I thought I was going through the menopause. (I was in my 20s at the time.) Consigned to storage, the dress soon turned brittle and fell apart from disuse. Why would a Wool& dress be any different?
The secret, I later discovered, lay in the blend. The plum long Rowena dress that I picked for my challenge was 78% merino wool, 22% nylon — and supremely comfortable. It kept me cool in summer, warm in winter, and it never lost its shape or durability. That was my first lesson.
The second lesson was the colour and style. Wool& dresses are kept deliberately plain and loose, with shades tending to be dark or muted for optimal styling. So if you’re one for bright, clashing Frida Kahlo palettes and prints, those take some adjusting to — but they are meant to be base colours.
Once you have acclimated to your challenge dress — like your eyes do to the dark — an extraordinary new perspective emerges. Sticking to one dress for 100 days teaches you that you do not need to wash your clothes every day. This advice is fully endorsed by the eco-conscious fashion designer Stella McCartney.
Those who insist otherwise have been socially conditioned by the great and good in advertising, fashion and household cleaning to believe that human bodies are disgusting and need daily sanitization. That is how they make money! I have been astonished by how much I have saved in laundry products since I started the challenge. Oftentimes, it’s just a matter of spot cleaning with the odd bit of green Marseille soap, or a soak with a dash of hand-washing liquid and a rinse followed by a drip-dry above the bath overnight, or outside on sunny days.
I have become a firm aficionado of Wool& and collected five of their designs: three Rowenas (one with the sleeves cropped short, and one in a ocean teal shade that I bought with the $100 incentive voucher I won for completing my challenge), one Renata, and one Sierra. That may seem like a lot, until you realise how much I’ve downsized my wardrobe.
All my vests, stretch tops, cardigans and jumpers fit into one drawer, as do all my bottoms. Hanging in the wardrobe I have just six coats, three shirts, one blouse, one non-Wool& summer dress, and three skirts. That would have been unthinkable a year ago, and I have achieved it by utilising accessories instead. Statement bead necklaces, belts and scarves go a long way in creating a look.
(Check out the wide black fabric tie-belt, festooned with brightly coloured ethnic beading and embroidery, that I wear in the top photo. Tagged £3.50 in a charity shop, it’s one of my most indispensable items ever.)
Being able to throw together a coherent outfit in the mornings so quickly with so little is hugely satisfying, not to mention the smug knowledge that you will always feel good stepping out the door in a hardwearing garment.
Trends come and go and my tastes will probably evolve like my mother’s, but prevailing circumstances will help me keep wasteful frivolity to a minimum — even while indulging, for a sweet moment, in the joys of fashion styling. Hooray for Wool&!
